


I'd Give My Heart Gladly

by melancholymango



Series: Sugardaddy Keith Shenanigans [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Camboy Lance (Voltron), Cock Piercing, Daddy Kink, Flirting, Fucking Machines, Getting Together, Lance is a Tease (Voltron), Lingerie, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nipple Piercings, Roommates, Secret Identity, Sexual Tension, Sugar Daddy Keith (Voltron), Sybian, Tattoo Artist Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:40:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 72,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23636197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melancholymango/pseuds/melancholymango
Summary: He can’t even justify it as desperation. If he were well and truly desperate to move out of Shiro’s place, it would have happened by now. He’s had other options, he’s had people offer, it’s not like he’s backed into a corner and living out of his car. But if it’s not desperation, what exactly is it? A sick, morbid type of curiosity to know Lance better, to expose himself to the same hurt he’s already felt by getting attached to the other boy? Is it still attraction pulling him in like a moth to a flame, despite all that’s happened and how he knows they’re a terrible match? He isn’t sure.He does, however, catch himself pulling on his best outfit before stepping out the door to go and meet Lance in the park. So maybe that’s an answer in itself.--aka the one where Keith makes an impulsive decision to move in with the man that stole his heart and broke it all in the same night. Will this end terribly for him, or will it be the start of something great?
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: Sugardaddy Keith Shenanigans [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1687180
Comments: 95
Kudos: 1072





	1. Chapter 1

“Does it hurt?”

“A little.”

“Need to take a break?”

“Yeah, maybe a short one. We’ve been at it for a while.” Hunk relents, though he seems embarrassed about needing to ask for it. Keith nods, easing his foot off the pedal and quickly swiping away the excess ink from his latest strokes. He sets the gun aside and pries off his gloves before leaning back against the stool finally, legs spread on either side.

“It’s coming along nicely, I think we’ll definitely be wrapping things up with the next session.” Keith comments, a swell of pride in his chest as he admires his work. Hunk is still catching his breath, panting heavily against the bench. Keith gets to his feet, feeling awkward with the one-sidedness of their current conversation. He wanders over to the mini fridge, idly stretching his hands, feeling jittery on his feet after concentrating so intensely for so long. “Can I get you a water or anything?”

“Yeah, if it’s not too much trouble.” Hunk’s response comes quickly, like he’s eager for it.

“No worries.” Keith retrieves a bottle for each of them and walks back over to his seat, handing one off and watching Hunk immediately start guzzling it down. Keith takes a few sips of his own, eyes darting around the room in search of a distraction. The small-talk is always the hardest part, filling the silence when the buzz of the tattoo gun can’t do it for him. 

Strangely enough, it’s almost worse to be working with someone he knows, but doesn’t know well enough to relax around. He’s known Hunk for the better part of a year now, but he wouldn’t call the two of them friends. Friends by association with Shiro, possibly. They’ve hung-out together a few times, but never alone, always with Shiro dragging them both together and trying to integrate the two different parts of his life. Family and friends.

Luckily, Hunk seems to excel at this sort-of thing. 

“So, looking forward to becoming an uncle?”

“Shiro’s been nagging his coworkers too, huh?” Keith can’t help but chuckle, shaking his head fondly at the thought. Shiro has been rather insatiable lately, desperately looking for an open ear to rant to or a shoulder to cry nervously on. Keith feels deeply for their poor surrogate who’s been through this all before and has to deal with all of Shiro’s questions. “Guy never fucking shuts up about it anymore. All he does is read parenting books and readjust the same five pieces of furniture in the nursery. You’d think he’s preparing to bring home an alien baby or something, he’s prepared for every worst outcome from colic to a goddamn apocalypse. I swear.”

“I’ll take that as a maybe?” Hunk jokes, raising an eyebrow at him. It throws Keith for a loop, forces him to remember what the question had actually been and school his features back into something more neutral. Of course he’s happy for Shiro, and that excitement his brother is feeling is definitely something contagious when they’re together… but it’s all secondhand, Keith doesn’t feel any firsthand excitement. 

It’s nothing personal. Shiro may be the biggest family man this side of the country, but Keith isn’t. Not by any stretch of the definition. 

“I’m not really a kid person. They don’t like me.” 

“Shiro tells me you’re hoping to find your own place before the baby arrives.”

“Well, to be fair, I have been living with them since we moved out here a year ago. I think it’s about time I flew the nest and stopped third wheeling the poor bastards.” Keith muses, reaching up to tie flyaway strands of his hair back into the elastic. It shouldn’t be as bittersweet as it is. 

It isn’t the first time he’s moved out, he lived on his own for years before he moved back in with Shiro this last time. He’d just done so much growing since moving back with Shiro, had found and pursued his passion, had moved halfway across the country. “Besides, they’ve got me sleeping on the couch since they turned the spare room into their nursery. My back can’t take it much longer.”

“You got any places in mind?”

“God, I wish.” Keith scoffs, leaning back on his seat to stare up above himself, focusing on the colorful ceiling tiles decorated with his artwork. “I’m not ready to buy yet, haven’t made up my mind on where I want to be. I’m hoping to rent, but I swear there isn’t a place in this whole fucking city that accepts large dogs and I’m sure as hell not going anywhere without Kosmo. So, for now, I’m out of options.”

“Hm.” 

“Why? Do you know of something?”

“I might.” 

“Yeah?”

“I don’t know if it’ll be a good fit, is the only reason I’m hesitating.”

“I’m considering living in my car at this point, Hunk, the standards are pretty low.” Keith admits, taking a long swig of his drink. He sets it down afterward, looks toward Hunk with hopeful eyes. The other man still looks unsure, but he gives a reluctant nod and begins to explain himself.

“It’s someone looking for a roommate.” Hunk informs him. Keith doesn’t comment, just worries the inside of his cheek between his teeth, tells himself that dealing with a roommate is a small price to pay to stop bumming off of Shiro and Adam’s generosity. “Well, I wouldn’t even say that he’s actively _looking_. He did a few interviews and then gave up, decided to be all mule-headed and keep trying to pay for it on his own because ‘he’d rather be homeless than room with a straight man’. His words, not mine.”

Realization dawns on Keith, hits him like an oncoming train all at once and knocks the air from his lungs in one foul swoop. He nearly chokes on his mouthful of water, unsure whether it’s due to amusement or discomfort. To be fair, he never really is sure when it comes to matters of dealing with Lance.

“Hm. Funny. I immediately have an idea of who it might be.” Keith says, trying his best to keep his voice impassive, void of emotion. It’s unfairly difficult to do, considering he isn’t even sure which emotions are trying to rise to the surface. Lance McClain is just like that, a self-contradicting force to be reckoned with, unpredictable by nature. He evokes both the worst and best in people. “How’s Lance been?”

“Good. His usual self. He failed a class a couple months ago, but he managed to get back on his feet and he’s due to graduate this fall now. He’s nervous, but I think he has it figured out. Only reason he failed in the first place was because he wasn’t giving it any effort.”

“I thought he was pretty serious about school.”

“He is. Sort-of. For his family’s sake. They think it’s awesome that he’s been given the opportunity to come to America and study at all, so they push him, and he wants to make them proud so he pushes himself. There’s no passion behind it though and I think the further into it he gets, the more he realizes that. But he’s almost done now and then he’ll be free to pursue whatever he wants, find what pleases him most.” Hunk’s voice takes on a conversational, easy tone now. He never struggles to talk about Lance. He’s always finding ways to bring him up in conversation, though usually not directly to Keith. They’re the kind of best friends that Keith thought only existed in films, despite the five years difference in age. It’s sort-of inspiring, despite Keith’s own mixed feelings toward Lance as a person.

“Huh.”

“He broke it off with that douchebag he was seeing for the past couple months. Thank god.” Hunk delivers this news like Keith will be equally as relieved by it. As it is, Keith just gives an awkward nod, filing the information away in the back of his mind. He hadn’t even known that Lance _was_ in a relationship. 

Come to think of it, the last time they’d been forced to hang-out together, Keith remembers Lance going on and on about a girl that he was interested in. He seems to have a new person in his life every other month. Not that Keith is judging, he doesn’t give ashit what anyone gets up to behind closed doors, much less Lance. He just sort-of pities the fool that tries to hold Lance’s attention for longer than a night, let alone a long-term relationship. It isn’t exactly easy… Keith would know.

“What’s his place like?”

“A small mansion. No idea how he pays for it considering he’s just working at the university library as an assistant right now, but is it ever nice. Five minute walk from all amenities, huge fenced-in yard, view of the oceanside, all recently renovated inside. Guy’s living the dream if he could only afford to pay for it.”

“Fuck. Sounds nice.” Keith breathes out in a low whistle, regrets it when Kosmo’s head pops out of the dog bed in the corner, ears twitching excitedly. He’s been so patient today, even though Keith hadn’t managed to take him for a proper walk between appointments today. They’ll have to go to the dog park later, after he’s finished up here. Keith gives the dog an apologetic look and turns back to Hunk. 

“Well, what do you think? Want me to give him your number?”

“You really think he’d consider me?” The words are past Keith’s lips before he can begin to debate them, whether it’s worth asking at all. Of course he’s interested, it sounds like the perfect place for him, it’s everything he’s been looking for and more. But… it’s Lance. He can hardly sit through an hour in the other boy’s presence, living with him would be a personal nightmare.

“Hey, look, I know you guys got off on the wrong foot when you met that night, he made an ass out of himself when he was drunk and there’s no defending him there. But you’ve hung out at least twice since without any problems? I don’t see what the big deal is. You clearly don’t hate each other.”

_You clearly don’t hate each other._

As much as Keith hates the confidence Hunk says this with, like he knows it as fact and won’t accept any argument otherwise… it isn’t _wrong_ . Keith doesn’t hate Lance. He thinks that maybe he should, and maybe Lance thinks he does, but he doesn’t. He hates how much he _doesn’t_ hate Lance, if anything.

“I don’t hate him.” Keith relents, wishing this conversation would end already. He cracks his knuckles idly, just to distract himself. He wants to get back to work. “It’s just awkward. Whenever I walk into the room, it's like he goes silent, he just stares and outright ignores me when I’m speaking. It’s fine when we have all kinds of mutual friends between us to act as buffers, but just the two of us together? I don’t know. I think eventually it would have to come to a head, and that could end bad.”

“It could also end good.”

“Ugh, you’ve been spending too much time with Shiro, you’re starting to sound just like him.”

“So?”

“You can give him my number. Don’t bother with the one you have, it’s my work cell. I’ll give you my private number.” Keith sighs heavily, like it pains him physically to give in. He grabs his phone out of his back pocket and Hunk does the same, entering the number one by one as Keith recites them aloud.

He’s sure he’s going to regret this.

“You won’t regret this, Keith. I know you have your reasons for being skeptical, but I should hope that you know me well enough by now to know that I wouldn’t call just anyone my best friend. He really is a great guy once you get to know him, you just need to give him a second chance to prove it.”

Keith already regrets this.

The rest of his session with Hunk passes quickly, the beautiful silence Keith is used to finally finding them again once the gun is going once more. Keith is happy to be alone with his thoughts as he works, tongue poking out between his lips as he concentrates hard. The piece covers Hunk’s entire back, inspired by the traditional tattooing methods of his Hawaiian ancestors, and Keith wants to be sure he does the vision justice. Hunk has hardly had any complaints yet, but he’s not going to get sloppy when it comes to the finishing touches.

After seeing Hunk out the door and cleaning up his station, Keith grabs Kosmo’s leash from the hanger and gets ready to head out. He’s the slightest bit eager, shrugging his sweater and gloves on fast, not even bothering to pop in and say goodbye to his coworkers before leaving. His hand is itching to grab for his phone and check his messages, but he’s made that mistake before and it never ends well.

If the message isn’t there? Disappointment, his impatience continuing to grow, and obsessively checking his phone the entire way home.

And if the message _is_ there? Well, let’s just say it takes him a hell of a lot longer to drive home.

It’s _that_ day of the week, _Friday_ , Keith’s favorite day. It’s the day that the hundred dollars that leaves Keith’s bank account on a monthly basis proves worth it. It’s the day he looks forward to during the agonizing long hours at work or the lonely hours at home. It’s the day he allows himself to fully relax, to treat himself a little.

Every Friday, like clockwork, he receives a message from _Leandro_. It’s part of the nsfw subscription service he signed up for impulsively and hasn’t regretted for a second since. These messages usually consist of a set of photos or the occasional full-length video, when Leandro’s feeling particularly generous. Not that Keith is ever picky about it, he’ll gladly take anything he’s given.

It’s sort-of a Pavlov’s dog response at this point, how Keith hurries home every Friday, feels the heat under his skin for hours before it has any good reason to be there. He’d be ashamed, if he wasn’t so damn busy being horny instead. Whatever, he’s allowed to have this, it’s not like he’s ever given himself many of life’s luxuries and damn if he can stop indulging in this one now.

So he’s mildly addicted to and in love with a porn blogger, what’s the harm? People have worse vices.

\--

It’s Lance’s favorite day of the week.

The day he gets to dress up and be a little over the top, adopt a persona that’s far more confident than even his usual one. The day he can look forward to being showered in compliments by his regular paying customers. And on a simpler level, it’s the day of the week he gets to touch himself for a couple hours and call it _work_. Does it get any better than that?

Sometimes, his life doesn’t feel real. How many people can genuinely say they pay for all their necessities and amenities with their body? On their terms, in the comfort of their own home, without ever having to do anything they don’t enthusiastically consent to. He doesn’t have set hours, he doesn’t even have to work multiple days of the _week_ , he can take a bunch of photosets in one day and then just post them sparingly throughout the coming days.

Nevermind that going into it, he’d had no intention of turning it into a job. He’d simply been posting photos of himself because he was horny, desperate for attention, and trying to sate a deep-rooted craving for praise and approval. He had fun with it, didn’t take himself too seriously, worked his way up from posting horribly-cropped bulge pics in bad lighting to posting full-blown HD videos of him fucking himself with the wide collection of toys strangers had anonymously bought for him.

So the fact he was making money at all, let alone this much, was merely a bonus. 

With all of this information in mind, can anyone really blame him for giving it his full effort when he does go to film content for his dedicated followers? The men and women that support him and provide for his livelihood? He wants it to be good for them, wants to keep them entertained and invested, wants to keep the intrigue going and never get boring with it.

The point is; it’s Friday night, and when Lance hears a knock on his front-door, he’s got a vibrator buried to the hilt in his ass and a smaller vibrating cockring hugging his cock. He’s butt-naked save for a pair of cat ears atop his head, on his knees in front of a camera, moaning and whimpering like the whore he is… and someone is at his front door right now, of all times. Damn it.

He’s pretty sure the amount of lube he’s got soaking between his cheeks and running down his thighs soaks right through the thin silk robe he shoves on, after clumsily throwing the sex toys aside. He lets them stay wherever they land, haphazardly thrown about his bed, and prays that whoever is visiting isn’t someone who will want to barge into his room.

By then, the knocking has grown more insistent, so he doesn’t even bother with underwear or pants before heading for the door. His house is big, a beautiful rental property that amazes all of his friends and family when they come over, so it takes him a few minutes of frenzied brisk walking to get there and wrench the door open. It’s only then, when he catches a belated glimpse of himself in the reflection of the door’s window, that he realizes how he looks.

Hair sticking up in every which direction, cheeks flushed, a thin sheen of sweat shining on his skin, lips bitten red, robe hastily thrown on to cover his nakedness… fuck.

Luckily, the universe takes pity on him, and the person standing on the other side of the door is Hunk.

“What do you want?” Lance asks him immediately, tone flat, eyebrows arched curiously. It’s not like Hunk to show up at his place unannounced, especially when they’d just gotten coffee together earlier that morning. Uncertain what could possibly be so important as to interrupt his alone time, Lance stays standing firmly in the doorway and makes no effort to move aside and let his best friend into the house.

Hunk is just staring at him in silence anyway, eyes wary as he stands taller, tries to peer into the home beyond Lance like he’ll find his answers there. Finally, he bites the bullet and just comes out and asks the obvious question to Lance directly.

“Do you have somebody over?”

“No.” Lance answers honestly, shrugging his shoulders. This only seems to raise more questions in Hunk’s dark eyes, as he narrows them into questioning little slits and rakes them over Lance’s appearance yet again, like he still hasn’t wrapped his head around what he’s looking at. 

“Why are you… oiled up and wearing a robe?”

“God, Hunk, one of these days someone is gonna have to teach you the art of self-care.” Lance sighs long and hard, before finally stepping aside and begrudgingly waving Hunk into the house. Hunk steps past him, but his eyes follow Lance the entire time, suspiciously glued to every inch of exposed skin. Finally, something seems to click in his expression, a choked noise rising and then dying in his throat.

“Ew. Were you _jerking off_?!”

“What do you want?” Lance repeats again, begging him to get to the point. Also, more discreetly, begging him to change the subject because he’d really and truly hit the nail on the head just now and Lance isn’t going to lie to his face, but he also knows that Hunk probably isn’t after the truth here. Hunk, bless his soul, is nowhere near as liberal and casual about the topic of sex as Lance is. It’s been a stifling sort-of topic in their friendship for years, though Hunk really does try his very best to be supportive of Lance’s sexcapades, he just doesn’t understand it.

Hunk doesn’t answer him right away, first invites himself into the living room and settles down into his usual spot on the couch. He shrugs his coat off and tosses it aside, before finally turning back to Lance.

“Well, I was _gonna_ give you a gift, but I don’t think you deserve it with that attitude.”

“You’re kidding.” Lance breathes, a grin engulfing his face in realization. He bounds across the room, falling onto the couch next to Hunk and collapsing into the man’s side. He hugs his arm, squeezing his bicep to the borderline of bruising. His eyelashes flutter pleadingly as he looks up at his friend, an utterly unnecessary show of begging. “Oh, love of my life, please tell me they’re those shortbread cookies with the icing and the little maraschino cherries on top?”

“It’s not food.” Hunk informs him, but before he even has time to really feel the blow of disappointment, Hunk continues on and reassures him. “It’s a cute guy’s number. A cute guy that you’ve been begging me to set you up with for months. A cute guy that I may or may not have suggested should move in with you and he was somehow interested in the offer.”

“ _W-What_?” Lance stutters out, disbelief written all across his features.

“I know, I know, I’m practically cupid himself.” 

“Who is it?!” Lance demands, clambering closer to Hunk on the couch, nearly climbing into his lap in a desperate bid for his full undivided attention. His impatience is growing in his gut, excitement a fluttery thing in his chest. It’s been a while since Lance has tried to date, or even really tried to hook up with anyone, he’s been so busy with school and work. But if it’s someone he’s been admiring for a while, he might be willing to make an exception. “Jeremy from the coffee shop? With the really cute beard?”

“No, it’s not Jeremy, oh my god.” Hunk groans. “How would I even spin that!? Harass him at work on your behalf?! I don’t even know that guy!”

“Well, who is it th-” Lance starts to ask again, getting short with him at this point, but the question doesn’t even make it past his lips before Hunk is shoving a phone screen into his face. It takes a moment for his gaze to focus enough to read the contact name, but the moment he does the rest of his mind goes blissfully and wholly blank in disbelief. “ _Keith_?”

“You owe me so fucking much.” Hunk tells him matter-of-factly. Lance just sits there unblinking, staring at the phone screen like the name might change if he takes his gaze off of it for one second. He genuinely can’t believe this. “You have any idea how hard it was to keep a straight face when he asked me if I knew anyone looking for a roommate? God, it was like the heavens opened up overhead, it was the perfect in to _finally_ set you two up. That guy is one tough egg to crack, you know that? Talking to him is like pulling teeth. He’s so reserved and intimidating, he looks like he could beat me up and he’s barely even half my size.”

“I’m sorry, I’m having trouble processing this. You’re not kidding? Keith wants to _move in with me_?” 

“It was my _third_ five hour session with him, Lance! Fifteen hours alone in his presence with nothing but the buzz of a tattoo gun to distract us from each other, and it still took me this long to carry one full conversation with the guy. If I didn’t have the trump card of being a friend of Shiro’s, I don’t think it _ever_ would have happened.” Hunk complains valiantly, but Lance is only half paying attention to him.

Of course he’s thankful, he really and truly is, he’s been begging Hunk to put a good word in for him since the moment Hunk told him who was doing his tattoos. But, never once had he thought it would _work_ . Unlike Jeremy from the coffee shop, Keith was no stranger, they knew each other personally and that fact was doing the _opposite_ of favors for Lance. 

The fact of the matter is, Lance threw away his shot with Keith the first night they’d met. And he didn’t stop at just throwing it away, he’d torn it up and lit it on fire before biffing it into a trashcan… that he then promptly rolled off a cliff. For good measure. 

It was the better part of a year ago now, but Lance remembers that morning vividly, he’s never let himself live it down since. In typical Lance fashion, he’d gotten a little drunker than what was strictly necessary at Hunk’s thirtieth birthday party, but could anyone blame him? He’d planned the party, put all the work into making sure it went well, and so he was allowed to enjoy it. It only seemed fair. 

That was the night he’d met Keith. Unfortunately, he doesn’t remember much of the night itself, only that he’d been smitten from the very first moment he’d seen the guy. He was tall dark and brooding, dressed head to toe in black and covered in tattoos, with a haircut that hadn’t been popular in thirty years… and god, he wore it unfairly well. Lance had never in his life met anyone like that, someone so intimidating and beautiful wrapped up into one. 

The rest of the night was hazy, but he knows he spent it with Keith, knows that they at least kissed and likely more than that. But he doesn’t remember the details, and that’d been his fatal mistake. Come morning, Keith had looked to him all expectantly, and Lance had been hungover and half out of his mind with a headache… and he’d just… snapped at him the slightest bit. He couldn’t stand that hopeful look, couldn’t stand knowing that he didn’t _know_. Whatever Keith was begging him to remember, he simply didn’t, and so there was no use drawing out the inevitable.

Except there was, because in his callous and cruel dismissal, he’d hurt Keith. In a way their relationship had never recovered from, probably could never if he was being honest to himself. Whatever they’d once shared was dead now, shriveled up and rotted away. He’d thrown away his shot.

Doesn’t mean he’s given up on getting another one though, not entirely.

“He’s so fucking hot. Imagine living with that all the time. I don’t think my feeble heart could handle it. If he lived here I would have to look fuckable twenty-four seven, Hunk, twenty-four hours a day and seven days a week! Just in case!” Lance enthuses, falling back into the couch cushions and staring adoringly up at the ceiling, remembering that cute little pout Keith had worn the entire time the last time they’d seen each other. It was a simple get together, Shiro invited Hunk, who by extension invited Lance, and of course Keith was there because Shiro was his older brother. Sure, it was awkward, but it was totally worth it because if Lance ever wanted to get another shot with Keith, he had to take every opportunity he got to earn one.

“You say that as if you don’t already, you literally answered the door in lingerie.” 

“I love you.” Lance blurts suddenly, remembering himself, and bolting upright. He turns to Hunk, plants his hands on the man’s muscular shoulders, uses all his strength to shake them back and forth in his hold for emphasis. Hunk just laughs, bright and airy, thoroughly amused. “Hunk, I’m serious, I think I might cry because of how much I fucking love you.”

“Thank-you. Finally, the recognition I deserve.” Hunk sighs wistfully, placing a hand over his heart. And just when Lance begins to relax again, sinking back into thoughts of pierced lips and leather jackets… he hears Hunk draw an uneasy and stiff breath. Tense. “So… there’s a catch.” 

“I don’t care.” Lance dismisses him immediately, with a wave of his hand. He’s not letting anything ruin this for him, no matter what it is. He can work around it, accommodate for it, anything to make sure this works out and he has Keith living under the same roof as him as soon as possible. That sounds like a dream come true and nothing, absolutely nothing, can ruin it for him.

“He has a dog.” Hunk blurts. Lance feels his blood run cold. Thoughts of pierced lips and leather jackets are replaced with thoughts of hair coating designer clothing and paw-print shaped stains on his stark white upholstery. “I know how you are about the place staying spotless, but come on, what’s one pet gonna hurt? Are you telling me it isn’t worth it?”

“Damn it.” Lance feels his resolve weaken, his shoulders slumping when he realizes that there’s no way he’s going to say no to this, that nothing could ruin it for him. “He is _so_ lucky he’s hot enough to be the exception to all my rules. It better be a fucking chihuahua.”

\--

Truth be told, Keith can’t tell whether he’s feeling excitement or dread when he answers the phone to an unknown number and hears _Lance’s_ voice greet him on the other end of the call. Of course he’d known this was a possibility, and in theory it should even be the preferred possibility when giving your number out willingly for a potential apartment, but fuck. It doesn’t feel like he’s won, when Lance greets him all bubbly and warm, like they’ve talked one-on-one a hundred times before and not literally _once_.

Important to note as well, is the fact that the _one_ other time they’ve spoken one-on-one was the night they met that Lance has since completely forgotten. That only works to ruin the experience even further, when Lance animatedly invites him out to dinner, so they can discuss the apartment. Keith dodges that fast and sure like an oncoming bullet, instead suggests meeting up in the local park.

He doesn’t think he can stand it, sitting across from Lance in a nice restaurant filled with couples. 

Thankfully, Lance is as agreeable as Hunk has always talked him up to be. He doesn’t even protest, just immediately goes along with Keith’s wishes and suggests a time and place in the park. Keith agrees, they exchange farewells, and then the call ends. Simple as that.

Or it _should_ be simple, though it feels anything but as the week passes and Keith finds himself counting down the days to the weekend when they’re meant to meet up. A part of him still can’t believe he’s doing this, offering to spend time with Lance of his own violation, offering to fucking live with the guy. It seems a little farfetched even to him and he’s the one making these (albeit impulsive) decisions.

He can’t even justify it as desperation. If he were well and truly desperate to move out of Shiro’s place, it would have happened by now. He’s had other options, he’s had people offer, it’s not like he’s backed into a corner and living out of his car. But if it’s not desperation, what exactly is it? A sick, morbid type of curiosity to know Lance better, to expose himself to the same hurt he’s already felt by getting attached to the other boy? Is it still attraction pulling him in like a moth to a flame, despite all that’s happened and how he knows they’re a terrible match? He isn’t sure.

He does, however, catch himself pulling on his best outfit before stepping out the door to go and meet Lance in the park. So maybe that’s an answer in itself.

Truth be told, Keith could make the entire walk to the park with his eyes closed. Not because he’s managed to memorize it that well, but because Kosmo has, and the dog hauls him along so excitedly that Keith knows he doesn’t need to put a single ounce of effort into making sure that that’s where they end up. It’s where he takes Kosmo every single morning without fail for their morning walk, and the dog acts as if it’s their own backyard by now.

The park is usually fairly quiet in the evenings and tonight is no exception, only a few odd families and couples walking along the trails. It doesn’t take him long to find Lance where they’d arranged to meet up. He’s settled on a bench alone, gaze glued to his phone, one foot propped up onto the edge of the bench so he can rest his chin atop his knee. As always, he’s dressed so effortlessly stylish that it has Keith second-guessing his own appearance. No one has ever annoyed and intimidated Keith in equal parts quite like Lance does.

He heads for the bench, ignores Kosmo’s protests as the dog tries to pull him back to the trails. Finally, he collapses onto the bench next to Lance with a huff, and Kosmo reluctantly plants his ass down into the dirt by his feet. Keith pants while he catches his breath, watching as Lance unfolds from his crumpled posture to face him.

“I gotta admit, I was kinda surprised you wanted to meet up.” Keith says finally, offering him a hand to shake, the one not currently bound up in Kosmo’s leash. Hesitantly, deep blue eyes flick between Keith’s face and the proffered hand. Keith flounders a bit. “I was under the impression we didn’t really hit it off the first few times we met.”

“What the hell is that thing?” Lance says finally, expression even, but tone absolutely wild.

It takes Keith a moment to realize they’re talking about Kosmo.

Lance isn’t even looking at him directly, instead eyeing him out of the corner of his gaze, like he’s a wild animal that one should avoid posturing against or threatening. Keith quirks an eyebrow, looks down at the dog, reaches out to give him a scratch between the ears. Kosmo’s foot thumps correspondingly to the speed Keith scratches him at.

“This is Kosmo.” Keith introduces him with pride, despite Lance’s less than enthused expression. When that doesn’t break him out of his stupor, Keith hesitantly begins to elaborate even further. “Uh, well, the shelter wasn’t actually sure. They suspect Husky for sure, maybe Great Pyreneese, maybe a little bit of Bernese Mountain Dog. I think he’s probably closer to a Leonberger than anything else, but the colors of his coat are more like a-”

“ _Wolf_?”

“Yeah.” Keith chuckles, shrugging his shoulders. Lance is still staring at the dog, wide-eyed and wary, like he’s never interacted with an animal in his life. Keith tries to hold onto the smile he’s forcing, even as it grows aching and tiresome. “He was a stray, so there’s a chance he could have wolf DNA somewhere in his background. I only adopted him a couple months ago so he might not even be fully grown yet.”

“Holy shit.” Lance breathes, reaching up to scrub a hand across his face, breaking himself out of the stupor he’s been stuck in. “And you think that thing can live inside a _house_?”

Keith’s smile falters the slightest bit at that, but he’s quick to reel it back in. Even still, he can’t fight the defensiveness rising in him, the snappiness to his tone as he corrects Lance.

“As long as he gets daily exercise, he’s actually really well-behaved. I’ve had him in training school since he was a puppy. I’m not one of those irresponsible owners that gets a huge breed and then expects them to live in a tiny apartment their entire life. He goes on three walks daily, the dog park four times a week, and then on the weekends we go on longer excursions and hikes on trails.” Keith explains, staring expectantly at Lance for any sort-of counter argument. When he doesn’t get any, just more slack-jawed staring, he growls out the final argument he’s been saving. “Hunk said you were okay with one pet as long as it was well-trained.”

“I didn’t think the pet of choice would be a horse, that’s all.” Lance mutters, chewing on the inside of his cheek in thought. And that, that’s the comment that throws Keith over. He’s not going to stand there and listen to snide remarks, not going to grovel for this opportunity. If Lance thinks he’s that desperate, he has another fucking thing coming. 

“Look, if you don’t think this is gonna work, just be blunt with me. Save the sugarcoating so neither of us waste our time. I’m not the kind of guy that has time to waste and I have better things I could be doing than standing here and listening to you trash talk my dog.” Keith readjusts his stance, tightens his grip on Kosmo’s leash and prepares himself to drag the heartbroken dog back home before he’s even had a full walk, because Keith isn’t about to wait around here if this is the attitude he has to deal with.

Lance jumps to his feet though, hands held up between them sheepishly.

“Okay, geez, I’m sorry to insult Fido, I’m just a little taken aback.” He explains, then lowers his hand down toward the dog. Kosmo’s ears twitch excitedly, but he plops his butt down on the ground to sit, rather than pulling on the slack of the leash to try and jump. Still, Lance hesitates before touching him. He glances up at Keith, nervousness shining in his eyes. “He doesn’t bite?”

“Have you ever been around a dog in your life?”

“We had livestock guardians on the farm, but that was about it. We were never allowed to have indoor pets and I’ve never really considered it since moving out. I don’t have the time to commit to taking care of myself, let alone an animal.” Lance explains, drawing a deep breath. “We had a couple stray cats I used to sneak into the house sometimes, but my mama whooped my ass for it every time. Said they were likely riddled with fleas, walking infestations of worms.”

“Oh.” Keith feels the fight drain from him, realizes belatedly that Lance isn’t being judgmental, just rightfully wary in a situation he’s new to. So Keith kneels next to Kosmo, ruffles up his hair clumsily and watches the dog’s tongue loll out as he pants. “He doesn’t bite.”

With that, Lance reaches out and gingerly lets his hand settle between Kosmo’s perky ears. The dog leans up into the touch, practically vibrates in the spot with how excited he gets, but he stays with all four paws planted firmly on the ground no matter how hard it looks like he’s fighting to do so. The first time Lance had touched him he’d nearly bolted right out of his skin too, so Keith can hardly chastise him for it. He understands.

“So, the general rules apply.” Lance says suddenly, dropping his hand and then tucking it back into the pocket of his jeans. “No parties, let me know in advance if you plan on having people over if you can, clean up every mess you make behind yourself. We have our own bathrooms, but we share the kitchen so I expect you to be respectful of that. Uh, rent is probably gonna even out at around twenty-five hundred a month once I split everything? Assuming that you living there doesn’t put any of the bills up too noticeably. And I think that’s everything?”

“You don’t have any... questions for me?” Keith asks in confusion, rising to his feet and brushing his dog hair covered hands off on his pants. Lance seems taken aback by the question, like he hadn’t even considered that aspect of the interview. Keith quirks an eyebrow at him.

“I don’t know, I’ve never done this before.” Lance admits. “I’m just going off what google told me.”

“You’re supposed to ask for _references_.”

“Hunk and Shiro count, I trust them.” Lance shrugs quickly, dismissive and indifferent. Keith stares blankly at him, wonders how the other man has survived on his own this long. For all he knows, Keith could be a murderer, or at the very least the type of guy to skip town without paying rent.

“Um, you’re supposed to ask what I do for a living? To make sure I have a steady income and way of paying the rent.” Keith tries again, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck.

“I sort-of already know, dude, Hunk never stops showing off the tattoos you’re doing for him. Besides, you’re practically famous, so I’d have to be pretty fucking stupid not to clue in by now.”

“Right.” Keith breathes, exhaling through his teeth. Still, he decides to go into more detail, feels strange not having to defend himself and his career for once. “Well, even though my salary isn’t a traditional hourly wage, I make good money from the individual clients I have and I don’t expect that to change any time soon because I’m currently booked two months in advance. So I’ll be able to keep up with rent.”

“Good. No worries if you’re ever short, most months I’ll be able to cover for you anyway. It’s not that I can’t afford the place on my own, but if I take on a roommate then I’ll just have so much more spending money to do what I want with.” Lance explains easily, sliding back down onto the bench and gesturing for Keith to do the same. He does, hesitantly settling on the far end opposite Lance. He eyes the other man warily, curiosity chipping away at his impulse control. Finally, when Lance makes no effort to tell, Keith has to ask.

“What do _you_ do for a living?” Keith asks, eyeing him out of the corner of his vision. Lance glances over at him in acknowledgement, then just as quickly looks away. He shifts in his seat, foot tapping against the cement beneath them, generally suspicious behavior. Hm. “Hunk mentioned you worked at a library, but there’s no way the salary is that steep.”

“Online freelancer and content creator.” Lance answers quickly, then turns to Keith and gestures to the whole of his entire arm. Keith quirks an eyebrow, looks down at his tattoo sleeve. “So, did you do these on yourself?”

“A few of them, but most are from other artists I’ve met.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah, it is kinda cool.” Keith mumbles, trailing off, at a loss for words. He’s not sure how to keep this conversation alive now that Lance is the one floundering. He looks to the other boy hopefully, and he does his best to accommodate and keep the ball rolling. Lance, it would seem, never has any shortage of words to share, whether they’re relevant or not.

“Any other questions I should be asking you right now?”

“I’m not a murderer, not a drug addict, not an alcoholic. Kosmo is fully house-trained and doesn’t chew… anymore. I have my own transportation so I’ll need a parking spot. I’m fine putting a monthly amount toward the grocery shopping if you want to handle that, I’m not much for shopping. And, uh, don’t expect me to be home a lot, let alone having people over, because I spend a lot of time at work or on the road to conventions. I take Kosmo with me to work and whenever I go anywhere, so a lot of the time it’ll be like we don’t live there at all. I mostly just want a place to rest my head and keep my stuff.”

“Sweet.” Lance grins. “Sounds good to me. You wanna see the place before we make it official?”

“Honestly? I’d just like to move in as soon as possible and start getting my stuff set up.”

“Perfect.” Lance confirms, reaching across the stretch of empty bench between the two of them. Keith stares at his outstretched hand for a solid ten seconds before hastily grabbing it and giving it a shake, all too aware of how cold and clammy his hand is, drenched in nervous sweat. If Lance notices, he has the decency not to mention a word about it for once. “I’m free any evening after 4pm, but please let me know in advance before you come over, if you can. I’ll do what I can to help with the move-in process and give you a free tour.”

With that, Lance gets to his feet and zippers his jacket back up against the cool fall wind. Keith stands as well, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other, searching for the right words to say. A part of him is still stuck wondering if this is really happening, though he’s more or less agreed to it all by now. He’s going to be living with Lance in the very near future.

“Thanks, Lance, for this.” Keith offers. “Hunk mentioned you were kinda hesitant about getting a roommate and especially about the dog, so hopefully I don’t inconvenience you too much.”

“You won’t.” Lance winks at him. He winks at him. Winks. “Text me whenever you decide you’re bringing your stuff over. I’m around most evenings after eight. See you soon!”

And with that, Lance is turning on his heel and walking away from him. As if that’d been a perfectly normal exchange for the two of them, one that didn’t include a fucking _wink_. Now Keith has to agonize over what that means for the foreseeable future, which is less than ideal. He’d thought he was over wondering where he stood with Lance, he thought they were passed that. He’d certainly given up on it ever being friends or anything more, he thought they were settled into begrudged acquaintance territory and nothing more.

Leave it to Lance to keep throwing fucking curveballs his way, he’s been doing that since the day they met. God, what he would give to understand what goes through that guy’s head.

Nevermind though, he won’t put too much thought into it. It’s not like he wants anything more than what they have, not really. Sure, objectively Lance is easy on the eyes, but it’s not worth the headache it would inevitably bring to pursue him in anything more than a professional sense. He’s not looking for a friend, certainly not a lover, and even the roommate title is a tentative one until Keith determines how easy it is to live with him.

He’ll keep his distance, focus on his work, and get through this until he can find a place of his own.

\--

Keith doesn’t spend a lot of time at home. He’s a busy man, a rolling stone, and he had informed Lance of the fact before he ever stepped foot on the property. So it’s not surprising necessarily, and it really has no right to be as disappointing as it is, but Lance just finds himself wishing circumstances were different for them. Oftentimes, it’s like Lance is still living alone, and there isn’t a roommate here sharing his space at all. Keith eats so little, messes so little, buys so little… he might as well be a damn ghost.

And yes, in literally any other scenario that would be Lance’s dream roommate, someone who hands over a chunk of money each month and then fucks off until next time. But this is different. This is someone he’s been admiring (albeit from afar) for months, vying for his attention any way he could get it. Living together was supposed to be his chance at redemption, at proving he’s not actually a total jerk.

It’s just really hard to bridge the gap and bond with a guy that you hardly ever see, that seems to actively avoid chances to spend time with you. Though Lance is sure he’s reading too much into it, that it’s nothing personal and Keith is just normally this busy. If he truly had something against Lance, why the hell would he have offered to move in with him? 

So, Lance equates it to Keith being a busy man. It’s not a stretch to believe, he’s constantly holed up in the shop with his booked-solid roster of appointments, and more than once Lance overhears him on the phone bickering with what must be their receptionist, letting them know that there’s no possible way he can squeeze anyone else in. 

He does, technically, have two days off every week, but what days those happen to be are a mystery to Lance as much as the next guy. Even on his days off, Keith is out of the house and long gone by the time Lance rolls out of bed in the late afternoon, begrudgingly getting ready to attend his classes.

The most Lance sees of Keith those first few weeks of living together is when he stumbles through the door in the late hours of the night, dark bags under his eyes and hair pulled back from his face in a messy pony, Kosmo trailing at his side like a bulky wolf-shaped body guard. And by that point he’s usually too tired to acknowledge Lance’s attempts at conversation with anything more than a grunt or a dismissive shrug. And then he goes to his room, sleeps, and repeats.

Honestly, Lance is starting to wonder how Keith is _alive_. All he ever does is work, Lance has never seen the guy eat, and he’s never actually seen him sleep either he just assumes that’s what he does when he retires to his room and closes the door behind himself. 

By all accounts, Keith lives his life entirely opposite to Lance. Lance who sleeps in until noon, who prepares lavish home-cooked meals for himself three times a day, who comes home after four hours of classes or his once-a-week eight hour shifts at the library and then treats himself to a good few hours of television or a bubble bath or a mani-pedi or a night out with friends or-

Anyway, the point is, Lance has concluded that Keith doesn’t know how to have fun.

Somehow, infuriatingly, that doesn’t make him any less attractive. 

So Lance debates it long and hard over a bottle of wine one night, as he’s subtly waiting up to make sure Keith gets home safely, and he comes to what should have been the obvious conclusion: it’s up to him to teach Keith how to have fun. That’s his in, his way to befriend Keith, his way to bond with him.

Newly determined and with a clear goal in mind, Lance doubles down and commits to it.

Granted, there is still the problem of Keith never being home, so Lance has to get creative with how he approaches him the first time. He gets a good grasp on Keith’s schedule and zeroes in on the best time to corner him, which just so happens to be the ass crack of dawn when Keith gets up to take Kosmo for his first walk of the day. It’s miserable waking up so early, but Lance powers through it, until he’s sitting in the kitchen fully dressed in his sexiest workout clothes when Keith comes stumbling into the room.

He doesn’t notice Lance at first, too caught up in wrangling Kosmo into his harness.

Lance leans over the counter further, lets his hair fall in his eyes, arches his ass out, the picture of seductive in every way. Keith looks up at that moment, bushy eyebrows furrowing together in what could be confusion, but could also be disgust. And then he’s looking back down at his dog, without sparing Lance so much as a once-over. Huh. He’s gonna be a tougher egg to crack than previously thought. Lance knows he looks damn good right now, he’s at least worth a second look.

“Mornin’.” Lance speaks up, his voice rough from sleep. Keith glances back over at him then, seems to debate whether it’s even worth a response before finally nodding in acknowledgement. But that’s all he gives before he’s rising to his feet, grabbing for Kosmo’s leash and getting ready to head out. And that simply won’t do, that’s nowhere near what Lance was hoping for. “You taking Kosmo for a walk?”

“Yeah.” Keith answers, without missing a beat. He doesn’t even look in Lance’s direction, after all the work he put into his appearance. Even if the walk thing didn’t work out, Lance was expecting Keith to ogle him a little bit, at least! It’s not like he doesn’t know that Keith is attracted to men, attracted to him in specific. They have a history, albeit a drunken one that Lance can’t entirely remember, but a history nonetheless. Surely there’s some level of attraction there on both sides.

“Pretty early for a jog.”

“Best time to do it. Less likely to get sunburned and sweat through your clothes.”

“Uh-huh. You’ve really thought this through.”

“I guess I have.” Keith doesn’t sound invested in the slightest, but he’s humoring Lance all the same. If anything, he seems like he’s trying to do whatever will get him out of here quickest, evading the entire conversation with a concerning level of desperation. He grabs for his wallet, slips it into the pocket of his jogging pants before finally, finally turning his gaze to Lance. “What are you doing up so early?”

It doesn’t sound intrigued as much as accusatory. Lance pales slightly under the criticizing gaze.

Keith is onto him! Abort mission, abort mission, ab-

“Walk.” Lance blurts, like an idiot. Keith stares back at him, face completely blank, void of any giveaway to his emotions. Slowly, ever so fucking slowly, his left eyebrow creeps toward his hairline. Lance silently curses himself and hurries to elaborate, hopefully with more grace. “What I mean is, I put on a couple extra pounds these past few weeks, figured now is as good a time as any to get back into my workout routine and burn them off. So I’m going to go… on a walk.”

“Huh.” Keith responds, biting his lip. Then, he turns on his heel. “Alright, well, I’m headed out.”

If Lance were anyone else, he’d know to leave it there. Leave well enough as well enough, rather than push his luck and make everything undeniably worse for him. Unfortunately, Lance is Lance, and therefore incapable of leaving things be. He’s a meddler by nature, pushes the boundaries and the limits, even though it often ends with it blowing up in his face.

He scrambles after Keith, grabs his shoulder just before he steps through the door.

Beneath his touch, Keith is stiff and tense to his core. 

“Actually, I was thinking we could jog together, seeing as we’d be headed in the same direction at the same time anyway. Assuming that’s okay with you?” Lance tries, his voice going embarrassingly high toward the end of the question and revealing his nerves. Keith shifts out from beneath his hand, gives him a narrow-eyed look that’s filled to the brim with suspicion, and then shrugs.

“I guess so.” Keith sighs heavily, like he’s relenting to something that’ll surely end in his misfortune. Ah well, Lance will just have to prove him wrong about that. “If you’re out of shape you might struggle to keep up, though. Kosmo doesn’t exactly stop for breaks. I mean, I can force him to, but this is his time to work off his energy so the more I let him push himself now, the calmer he’ll be throughout the day.”

“I think I’ll manage, thanks.” Lance insists, following Keith out into the yard. Where Keith is clad in a pair of joggers and an oversized black band tee that looks like it’s been through the wash a good thousand times in its lifespan, Lance is wearing the tiniest booty shorts he owns and a baby pink crop top. It’s a stark contrast, the two of them together, but Lance doesn’t have much time to admire it before Keith is taking off ahead of him.

Immediately, Lance wonders if Keith is trying to make an honest effort to outrun him and leave him in the dust. There’s no way Keith normally jogs this fast first thing in the morning, holy hell, he’s sprinting and that massive bear of a dog is barely a blur of black ahead of him. Lance can barely keep up, they’re not even off their road yet and already he’s panting for air. “Shit, that dog is a menace.”

“Isn’t he?” Keith shouts back at him over his shoulder, radiating pride. He seems to realize then that Lance isn’t speaking from a place of wonder as much as a place of annoyance. He commands Kosmo to heel and he does immediately, plopping down on his haunches against the pavement. Keith turns back to Lance, eyeing him curiously as he reaches up to tie his hair back. “Are you getting tired out already? We usually head to the Starbucks for my morning coffee and then circle back.”

Lance’s blood runs cold.

“The Starbucks that’s five blocks away?” He asks, disbelieving. There’s no way anyone could keep up this pace all the way there, Lance already feels like he can taste blood in the back of his throat, his head is spinning, his shoes are definitely forming blisters against his ankles. Maybe his outfit hadn’t been the most practical in hindsight, where it’s riding up in places it shouldn’t and clinging to his skin with sweat already, but damn. Keith is unreal. “You’ve gotta be kidding me, no wonder you’re fucking ripped.”

Oh shit, did Lance just say that out loud? _Whoops_.

It’s not like it isn’t true, or even common knowledge. Keith doesn’t really make any effort to hide it, always showing off those unfairly defined muscles, biceps bulging where they’re covered in a colorful array of tattoos. How is Lance meant to look at anything else when it’s all on display like that?

“Uh, thanks?” Keith tries, shifting from one foot to the other. Kosmo is growing visibly impatient, starting to fidget in spot just like his owner. Keith reaches down to scratch his head, calming him wordlessly as he continues to gape at Lance. It’s like he’s not certain what to feel. “Look, if you wanna turn around now, that’s totally fine. I’m not gonna judge you for it, I’m not one of those competitive douchey guys that care about that shit. You know your limits.”

Ah, probably for the best that Keith assumed it was coming from a place of jealousy rather than admiration, but still stings a little that he thinks so lowly of Lance. 

“Nah, I’m set on getting some over-expensive morning caffeine now, I’m gonna stick with it.” 

“If you’re sure.” Keith says, but Lance simply nods and hurries past him as if to prove a point. And maybe to give Keith ample opportunity to stare at his ass, you know, if he felt so inclined. Only, it’s a matter of seconds before Keith is passing him by again, and Kosmo nearly fucking plows him over in his rush to get past. In the process, he leaves Lance’s leg coated in dog hair. 

Lance sighs, then goes back to trying to keep up with Keith.

This is more work than he’s ever had to put into wooing anyone. Normally, people come to him, bold and blunt about their intentions. It’s not often that Lance finds himself chasing after anyone these days, and definitely not to such an extent that he has to navigate their entire relationship so carefully and befriend them first. To be perfectly honest, he’s not even sure at this point what he wants with Keith.

It’s a matter of pride as much as it’s a matter of surface-level attraction, and maybe that’s vain of him to admit, but Lance doesn’t really know anything about Keith and he feels like he needs to in order to have any stronger feelings for him. Not for any lack of trying! Keith is just… difficult to know. Really difficult.

He’s even more difficult to know when he’s running a good ten feet ahead of Lance, barely even breaking a sweat, while Lance gasps for air like a man drowned. It’s impossible to hold a conversation of any type like this, so maybe Lance was a fool to think this would be a good way to bond after all. 

Keith doesn’t slow down any the entire way there, so by the time the Starbucks comes into Lance’s line of sight he nearly cries with relief. He manages to hold the tears back, but he does trip over his own feet and fall to the dirt about as gracefully as a newborn foal. Miserably, he looks up to find Keith turned around and doubling back to him, concern evident on his face. So much for appearing flawless and seductive the entire while, then.

Keith holds a hand out to him and Lance takes it, cheeks aflame with a blush.

“You good?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Lance dismisses quickly, eager to put this awkward moment behind them. 

He’s usually better at this stuff, comes across as more casual and graceful in his attempts at flirting. It’s just, Keith is such a brick wall of a person, it’s hard to gauge what’s working and what isn’t when it comes to him. Lance is out of his element and none of his favorite lines, acts, or personas are working in his favor. Keith is too straight-laced and hard to please, he doesn’t play along with any of Lance’s best attempts at being anyone other than himself.

Lance wonders if he’s still holding a grudge, from the night they met. Then he wonders if drunk him is somehow better at flirting than sober him, if he did something completely different that just worked for Keith. He wishes desperately, not for the first time, that he could remember what happened between the two of them.

But he can’t.

So he hangs his head low and trails after Keith to the building across the parking lot.

“Well, here we are.” Keith announces. “Maybe you should just get some water, you look exhausted.”

“I’m fine, I just… need a minute. To catch my breath.” Lance insists stubbornly, doubled over and panting, clutching his knees for support. He probably could use a drink of water, could probably down an entire pitcher full, but there’s something niggling and insistent about his pride that won’t let him accept it. He never thought himself to be one of those bullheaded macho male types, he doesn’t rightly care that Keith is more fit than him, it’s just… he wants to impress him. So badly. And nothing he does fucking works. 

Keith is so untouchable and Lance can’t stand it, it drives him mad.

“Uh-huh.” Keith hums. “What do you want? If you wanna wait out here with Kosmo, I’ll grab it for you.”

“Hm… good question.” Lance lifts his head, peers through the windows of the building like he will somehow be able to see the menu from here. Nevermind that he has it mostly memorized anyway, that he’s one of those basic uni students that more or less live inside coffee shops. “I’m kind of in the mood for a sandwich now that I’ve worked up a hunger… ooh, a panini! Chicken artichoke, maybe? Fuck, but that lemon pound cake is calling to me too, I love that shit. Oh, fuck, their new specialty donuts though… have you tried them yet? I haven’t, but Hunk said they were really-”

“Drinks, Lance, what _drink_ do you want?” Keith tells him, his tone flat. Though, when Lance looks up at him, expecting to see that familiar irritation displayed plainly across his features… there’s only a certain level of amusement. Like Lance’s indecisive rambling to himself is somehow more worthy of Keith’s coveted smiles than all of the effort he’s put in all day long, actively trying to impress.

Maybe Keith has a thing for really annoying guys, who knows, because every person Lance has ever been with before certainly wasn’t fond of how he tended to talk through his thoughts aloud. 

Keith is vastly different from all of them, though. Not just in appearance, but in personality too, in the way he looks at the world. Despite being a more-or-less B-list online celebrity, he seems utterly indifferent toward the popularity or the fame, hardly ever speaks of or acknowledges it in the slightest, while any one of Lance’s exes would be gloating about it and letting it to go their heads. They’d all been a bit… shallow. Not that Lance could ever fault them, because he had a tendency to be a bit obsessed with himself just the same. 

It’s just jarring how different Keith is from the type of people Lance normally finds himself pursuing. And he can chock it up to the bad boy appearance, the fame, or even the scorned pride and the desire to prove himself. But at the core of it, he thinks he really quite likes how different Keith is. He’s a refreshing change of pace, something entirely unlike all of Lance’s past relationships that have crashed and burned horrifically. Keith is different.

“Um…” Lance thinks hard, desperately tries to come up with a straightforward answer. He doesn’t want to push it and annoy Keith now. “Ultra caramel frappe or strawberry acai refresher, what do you think?”

“Fuck if I know.” Keith answers immediately, but then he pauses. And that’s the moment Lance notices things changing between them, when Keith takes a moment to rethink his words, to debate the impact they’ve had and take notice of Lance’s withdrawn reaction. “I don’t know their menu so I won’t be much help, I just go here because it’s the only coffee shop around. I swear, every time I turn around there’s a new one popping up, it’s somehow the most baffling part of moving to L.A.”

It’s surprisingly genuine, the awkward way he stumbles through it. Not that Keith isn’t wholly and bluntly himself at any given time, but there’s no denying that he keeps people at an arm’s distance at the best of times. It’s not all that different to the way Lance downplays his faults and exaggerates the traits people have praised him for, in specific flaunting his body.

It’s the first time since meeting that Keith is making an effort, and that Lance doesn’t feel the need to. 

“And let me guess, you drink your coffee black?” Lance tries, offering a sideways smile. Keith laughs at that, shakes his head vehemently. It’s painstakingly casual, even as Lance feels like he’s been lifted clear through to cloud nine. He’s never made Keith laugh before, not like this at least, in a way that isn’t directed at him. 

“What the hell kind of guy do you think I am? No, black coffee tastes like dirt, I drown that shit in sugar like any sane person should.”

“Thank god.”

“Well?” Keith asks then, jerking his thumb toward the building behind them. Lance debates for a moment longer before shrugging his shoulders, slumping down to kneel beside Kosmo. The dog immediately dives in for a sloppy lick across his cheek and Lance dodges just in time, using both hands to hold him at bay.

“I don’t know, just surprise me.” He tells Keith, not daring to take his gaze off of Kosmo.

“ _Surprise you_?” Keith repeats, sounding far from convinced. But Lance just nods, doesn’t offer him any other out, so he begrudgingly accepts it. He looks grumpy about it though, as he turns and stalks into the building, leaving Lance waiting outside. “Fine.”

The very moment his back is turned, a smile engulfs Lance’s face that he’s been fighting for the better part of five minutes. He draws a shaky breath, bites at his lips to try and chase the giddiness from his expression. A part of him can’t believe this is working at all, for a while there it’d seemed so hopeless.

Beside him, Kosmo’s gaze is absolutely glued to his face. Lance looks at him, quirking an eyebrow.

“What are _you_ looking at?” Lance sneers. He responds by thudding his tail against the ground, jaw dropping and tongue lolling out. Maybe Lance is reading too much into it, but he swears he sees a spark of something accusatory in those dark brown eyes. He glares. “Shut-up.”

About ten minutes later, Lance looks up at the chime of the door to see Keith walking out with a frankly unsettling amount of food and drink in his arms. He’s carrying three drinks and two bags of food, and Lance can’t help but furrow his eyebrows in confusion.

“Keith…” 

“I couldn’t decide for you, I just asked for everything you mentioned. It was easier.”

“Easier?!” Lance laughs incredulously, as he graciously accepts the armful of food, struggling not to drop any of it. Keith looks entirely out of his element, pointedly avoiding eye contact. Lance looks over the amount of food, disbelief only growing. “How much did this _cost_? I only have a ten on me, dude.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Keith dismisses, quickly.

“Don’t worry about it.” Lance repeats, trying to wrap his head around it. Maybe Keith dislikes him less than he thought, because even Hunk wouldn’t buy Lance this much food and not expect repayment later on. “Alright, fuck, guess I’m gorging myself on sweets today. You’re gonna come home to me passed out on the couch, in a food coma. So much for working off my extra pounds.”

“Your own fault for not deciding what you wanted.”

“I didn’t ask for the entire menu, Keith! I don’t think I even mentioned half of this shit?!”

“Well, that’s your problem now.” Keith informs him bluntly, taking a long sip of his iced coffee. And then he’s off again, wrapping Kosmo’s leash around his wrist and starting back home. Lance gapes uselessly after him, still struggling to gather all of his food. “Try to keep up, Lance, I have to be at work in an hour.”

“Jesus Christ.”

\--

To be perfectly honest, Keith isn’t sure _how_ it happens.

It’s almost like an overnight change. One day he’s avoiding Lance like the plague, and the next they have a routine of jogging together every morning. It’s not something he ever could have predicted, and certainly not something he asked for, but now that it’s happening he finds he doesn’t mind it nearly as much as he’d thought he might. It’s actually almost… _nice_ , to be on better terms with Lance.

There are the obvious appeals, of course. Being able to relax at home and not be in a constant rush to get away, at risk of unwanted social interaction. Having someone to rely on to watch Kosmo occasionally when he has no other options. Plus, now that they’re talking, Lance makes a point to make meals for the both of them, and Keith can’t even remember the last time he could rely on regular home-cooked meals.

And the thing is, the more Keith spends time with Lance, the easier it gets. In the beginning, it’d been like pulling teeth to be in the same room with him. It was like he always had something to prove, always posturing against Keith, like they had some sort-of stupid ongoing competition or rivalry when in reality Keith just wanted nothing to do with him. Nowadays though, Lance is more relaxed about it, simply acts like himself, like he had that first night they’d met and alcohol had lowered all of his inhibitions. 

Granted, he still insists on… flirting.

He flirts a lot. Constantly. Day-in and day-out. It’s like he always has a line waiting at the ready, or a sexy outfit just begging to be pulled from his closet, or a not-at-all discreet way of showing off what an experienced lover he is. Keith isn’t so oblivious that he doesn’t notice. He’s just unsure whether it’s something with intent behind it, or if it’s the same way Lance flirts with his friends, fun and lighthearted with no goal in mind. Or maybe it’s something else entirely, a new way of trying to upshow Keith, stringing him along just to make a fool out of him.

So Keith finds himself falling back to the comfortable grey area of just… feigning oblivion. He doesn’t reject Lance, but he doesn’t encourage him either. He’s not about to let Lance reject him a second time around, and this is the safest way to avoid that. Lance does seem visibly disappointed every time Keith completely ignores his advances, but it’s for the best.

Behind closed doors, Keith isn’t nearly as indifferent as he pretends to be.

It’s dredging up feelings he’d thought long buried, dead and gone. He desperately tries to deny it, but it’s no use, anyone that knows him could see right through the lie. And Shiro does, the very moment he asks Keith how things are going living with Lance and Keith averts his eyes. That night ends in Keith storming off with a scowl on his face, after facing a relentless amount of teasing at Shiro’s hand.

That night, he gets in late. 

He’d told Lance not to wait up for him, that he’d probably end up staying the night at Shiro’s place. That plan had gone clean out the window the moment Shiro started teasing him about his “crush” (it isn’t a crush, it’s not a fucking crush, it’s not), so instead Keith finds himself trying to sneak in as quietly as he can at 2am. He doesn’t want to wake Lance, he knows that tomorrow is Tuesday, the one day a week Lance has to get up early because he works at the library, and Keith doesn’t want to bother him.

He does a pretty good job of keeping quiet and going undetected, in his humble opinion.

After shrugging his coat and boots off, he tiptoes down the hall toward his room. Lance’s room door is slightly ajar, something that Keith has never seen before, but he doesn’t think anything of it as he shimmies past toward his own room. He’s quiet about it, no way Lance knows he’s there unless he saw his shadow moving, it’s the perfect execution.

There’s only one thing he hadn’t accounted for…

Kosmo doesn’t even hesitate to shove his nose into the crack of Lance’s door before barreling forward, slamming it open wide until it hits the drywall with a thud that means it’s probably left a dent in the paint. And then he’s soaring into the room, bounding forward like he’s never been anywhere better, and Keith is left to scramble in after him, frantically shushing his excited yips and barks.

Fuck. Fucking hell. Kosmo knows he’s not allowed in Lance’s room, that bastard!

Keith darts into the room after him, manages to grab his collar and haul him backward just before he launches all of his weight onto the bed, onto the poor and unassuming form of sleeping Lance-

Oh. 

_Oh fuck._

Lance is very much _not_ asleep.

He’s got his pillows all propped up against his headboard and is leaning back against them, blankets pulled hastily and clumsily to cover his lap. His chest is bare and covered in a thin sheen of sweat, the low-lighting of his lamp shining against his skin. His hair is tousled rather than perfectly styled, his cheeks flushed a blatant shade of pink even against his dark complexion, and his eyes are undoubtedly wide with guilt and shame alike. 

It’s very telling that one of his hands is out of sight beneath the blankets, Keith doesn’t need to dwell on that longer than a second for the pieces to click together with a sound and resolute certainty. 

“Keith.” Lance says, even and flat in tone, void of emotion. But even that is revealing in its own way, the little hitch in his breath as he sharply inhales, the way his voice is raw and raspy like he’s been choking back his own noises for a while now. Keith can’t tear his gaze away from him, glued to his deep blue eyes, darker than he remembers them ever being when his pupils are eclipsing his irises with lust.

“Lance.” Keith breathes, so quiet he can hardly hear himself over the sound of his own heartbeat pounding away in his ears. He’s unaware of it, but he’s holding his breath. “I am so, so sorry. I swear, this won’t happen again, it was an honest accident and-”

Lance holds up a single hand, silencing him before he has a chance to finish.

“Dude, it’s fine.” Lance laughs then, and it doesn’t sound forced or fake, it sounds genuinely mirthful. He tips his head back, giggling lightheartedly. Then he draws his hand out from under the blankets, reaches unceremoniously over to the side table and grabs a handful of tissues. All the while, the easy smile stays stretched across Lance’s lips where they’re bitten-red. Keith’s eye twitches. “What’s a little awkward walking-in on each other between roomies? It was bound to happen sooner or later, my own fault for not locking the door.”

“Partially my fault, I should have texted you that I was coming home tonight.” Keith insists nervously, still waiting for this to turn around and blow up in his face. No way is Lance _this_ casual about it. 

“Keith, I’m literally not bothered. I can’t think of a single friend who _hasn’t_ seen my dick at some point. If anything this is a right of passage.” Lance explains with a shrug. It doesn’t seem like a joke either, he seems completely serious, like he’s completely unbothered by Keith’s presence. It shouldn’t come as the shock it does, he’s heard the way Lance talks about his sex life, he’d just thought… well, for starters, he thought that Lance was all talk and that faced with a situation such as this one, he’d be a flustered stuttering mess.

“Right.” Keith manages gruffly, swiping a hand through his hair and pushing it back from his face. Beside him, Kosmo is growing agitated, trying to squirm out of his grip. Uncertain what else to say, if anything, Keith starts to discreetly walk backward toward the door. “Well, uh, goodnight.”

“Sweet dreams?” Lance offers around a chuckle, his face lighting up in an amused smile. Fuck. Keith nearly trips over his own feet, eyes going wide with awe. Of course Lance is always attractive, he damn well knows it, he works it to his favor every chance he gets, the dude is hot. But this, this is different, Lance grinning wide and unabashed, appearance mussed by sleep and sex alike. It’s painstakingly wholesome, in the most contradictory of ways, and Keith can’t get enough of it.

He wants to see more of it, which is a damning desire to have.

“Yeah, sure, sweet dreams.” Keith chokes out, before darting out into the hallway and all but slamming the door shut behind him. Immediately, he ducks into his room and slumps down onto his bed the moment he’s got the door locked. He buries his face in his hands, tries and fails to calm down his racing heart with reason.

It would never work. They gave it a shot, it crashed and burned, and Keith vowed never to look back. He isn’t so desperate that he’s going to get hung up on a guy that treated him so terribly to begin with. He has other options, plenty of them, he’s just… not good at the whole dating scene, meanwhile Lance is literally right there. And willing, presumably. With the amount he flirts. But there’s a very slim chance they want the same thing.

Not that Keith is willing to admit he wants _anything_ yet, god forbid.

It’s not a crush. It’s _not_.

To distract himself, Keith pulls out his phone and opens up a familiar profile. Leandro has been active today, replying to people and posting a few tasteful semi-nudes, requesting money to see the uncensored versions. Keith licks his lips and debates it, reaches down between his legs. The whole debacle with Lance had been too mortifying to get hard at the time, but in hindsight, he can’t rid his mind of the image of Lance flustered and sweaty.

Maybe getting off is exactly what he needs to move on and forget about it. Maybe he’s just horny and confusing it for something more, something heavier than what it actually is.

**Redwolf19: You around?**

_Prettybluekitty: For you? Always._

**Redwolf19: Can I buy a video? Something new?**

_Prettybluekitty: Something custom?_

**Redwolf19: Sure. Maybe another vid using that red dildo you like so much?**

_Prettybluekitty: I love a man that knows what he wants. One sec, it’ll take a minute to film it._

_Prettybluekitty: Tell me what you think, handsome._

The video isn’t terribly creative, but that’s not what Keith’s in it for anyway, and by now Leandro surely knows that much. It’s just skin, beautiful and bare skin, in all of its naked glory and stretched out across plain white sheets. Leandro is sprawled out, one leg hitched up underneath himself, his hand brought around behind himself to work fingers into his hole.

After taking his sweet time stretching himself open around three fingers, until his rim is twitching and clenching down around them hungrily in search of more, Leandro finally pulls his hand back and fumbles off-screen for something. In a moment, he returns with the dildo of choice, already slicked with lube and glistening against the low lighting of the bedroom.

Keith licks his lips, reaches down at that point to finally start tugging on his hard cock.

It doesn’t take him long at all to finish with such pretty visuals. The video itself is short to begin with, short enough that Keith watches it twice before he comes, short enough that he has to wonder if Leandro was worked up before he ever turned the camera on. He’s seen his fair share of videos like it by now, Leandro slowly working an oversized toy into himself, training his body to take something of that size and moaning through the whole thing.

He’s quieter than usual tonight and Keith can’t help but wonder if he’s at risk of being overheard, if he has a lover that keeps him from being as loud as he normally would, or maybe a roommate on the other side of his wall. There’s a certain allure to it though, listening to him try and fail to bite back and swallow down his moans. Every now and then, one slips out and filters shakily through Keith’s cheap headphones, and it makes it all the more attractive when he can’t fight them and the noises slip out anyway.

Keith comes to the sight of Leandro kneeling on the bed, lifting his weight and then dropping it bodily back down until the dildo disappears inside of him to the hilt. Keith imagines what it would be like to have a man as attractive as Leandro riding him, bouncing up and down on his cock, taking what he wants from him. Fuck. He can’t deny how appealing the thought is.

Cum shoots from his cock, landing in streaks across his chest. The pleasure blindsides him, has him trembling and gasping through it as he comes back down, comes back to himself. He hopes he wasn’t too damingly loud, that Lance didn’t overhear him. That would be another level of embarrassment.

Just as soon as he feels capable, he shoots off a quick review to Leandro.

**Redwolf19: Fuck. I think I’m in love with you.**

_Prettybluekitty: Sorry, I don’t sell my heart, only my body ;)_

\--

Lance doesn’t allow things to become awkward between them after being walked in on.

He doesn’t bring it up, feels like that’d only be counteractive with how Keith is. Instead he glosses over it and pretends it never happened, doubling down in his efforts to spend more time with Keith. It isn’t long before they advance, from just spending an hour together each morning on their jogs, to spending another hour together in the afternoon when they meet up during Keith’s lunch hour at work, and then eventually spending time together in the evenings watching shows as well.

It never gets any easier to keep up with Keith when they’re jogging, but Lance does find himself admiring himself in the mirror after a couple weeks of it, impressed by the muscle definition he’s gaining.

And the first time they meet up for lunch at the local park, Lance nearly loses the contents of his stomach upon watching Keith open a can of ravioli and it eat cold straight out of the tin. From that point on, he makes a point to drag Keith all the way home so they can eat a proper meal. Together.

Worst of all are the shitty documentaries that Keith thinks are acceptable forms of entertainment, and how he outright refuses to watch anything else. It’s Lance’s nightmare, trying to stay focused on shows composed of entirely nonfiction, facts and experiments and bullshit that his sixth grade science teacher probably would have busted a fat nut over.

Anyway, the actual process of becoming Keith’s best friend isn’t nearly as glamorous as Lance had made it out to be in his head. They don’t fit together seamlessly, there’s no goalpost in sight where he’s close enough to stop putting the effort in, close enough to have proven he’s worth Keith’s time. It morphs into something entirely different along the way, until he’s less trying to impress, and more just trying to make Keith smile and laugh. 

He hardly ever smiles, and he’s so unfairly pretty when he does.

But, well, the process may be shit but the pay-off is more worth it than Lance ever could have predicted in a million years. Keith is actually a good guy. He’s intelligent, always has something interesting to offer, his perspective is always fascinatingly different from Lance’s and it’s impossible not to seek it out once it’s an option. He’s still as blunt and dry-humored as ever, but it’s a nice change of pace compared to Lance’s uni friends that are always high-strung and over-emotional (not that he minds, as that’s exactly how he himself is, but it gets a bit overwhelming at times).

What you see is really what you get with Keith. He’s standoffish, he’s short-tempered, and he never bends to accommodate anyone else. But… he’s also fiercely loyal, honest, and caring in his own way.

Lance can’t help but notice that _feelings_ are quickly getting involved in what started as a vain physical attraction. It’s not surprising, he’s the type to fall in love with everyone who’s remotely nice to him, he’s had a crush on every single one of his friends at some point. It’s worse with Keith though, when right from the start he’s so painstakingly aware of the way the odds are stacked against him. He had his shot and he threw it away, like a damn fool.

It also doesn’t help that Keith… indulges him so much.

Look, there’s really no other way to put it. Lance notices toward the start of them jogging together in the mornings, that Keith doesn’t even think twice, just instinctively pays for both of their drinks every single day. And sure, maybe it’s just a kindness thing, maybe he has the money to spare or something. But Lance can’t help but get hung up on it, wondering what his intentions behind it are.

“Same as usual? The pink thing?” Keith asks him one morning about a week and a half into their newly adopted routine, handing Kosmo’s leash over. Lance accepts it, while still fishing around in his back pocket for his wallet. He’s determined to pay for himself today. He doesn’t need Keith’s charity, alright, he’s not some broke college student. He has a steady and sizeable income, even if he can’t tell Keith how he makes his money.

“Yeah, here’s a ten for-”

“Oh, no worries, I’ve got it covered.” Keith tells him, pressing the bill back into Lance’s palm. Before he can even protest, Keith has disappeared into the building. So Lance gives up, tells himself that tomorrow will be different.

Tomorrow isn’t different. Nor the day after that. Eventually, Lance is forced to try another tactic.

“Hey, I actually have to pee. I’ll grab our drinks on my way out?” Lance suggests, even hopping from one foot to the other for emphasis. He wants it to be believable after all, though he doubts Keith is about to question him and fight him for the right to buy the drinks. Keith quirks an eyebrow, then produces his bank card from his pocket and shoves it into Lance’s hands, unceremoniously.

“My pin is 5465.”

“Uh, yeah?” Lance offers around the lump in his throat, confusion blooming all over again as he stares at the card. He’s so blindsided by it, that he doesn’t even know how to protest. He just nods, heads inside, and ends up paying for their drinks with Keith’s fucking card. And worst of all, when he walks back outside, Keith doesn’t even immediately ask for it back. Almost like he couldn’t be bothered to care one way or the other.

And look, alright, Lance _knew_ that Keith was well-off. Instagram celebrity that he is, there’s no way he’s not capitalizing on that fame at least a little bit. He’s no millionaire, but he can afford a nice place, and has money to spare after that, which is more than can be said for most people living in L.A.

Granted, now that Lance is thinking about it and can’t _stop_ . If Keith has so much money, what’s he doing with it all, aside from buying stuff for Lance? He’s forced to notice just how much Keith _doesn’t_ spend his money and that just makes it all the more crucial that he’s spending so much on Lance. Aside from his caffeine addiction he’s constantly feeding, he really doesn’t seem to buy anything for himself. As a matter of fact, it’s more often Lance coming home with bags in hand, filled to the brim with impulse purchases or entire new wardrobes. Keith just… doesn’t buy himself stuff. 

Lance decides to put his theory to the test one evening, when Keith comes home just early enough to be dragged back out of the house without too much complaint. Lance brings him to a mall, mostly for the sole purpose of trying to find out what Keith likes, trying to see what it would even look like to see the other boy attempting to shop. It… doesn’t go to plan. Not exactly.

The mall is busy, as it always is. When they first walk in and see the bustling crowds, Lance sneaks a glance over at Keith and half expects him to walk right back out. He doesn’t exactly seem the people-y type, and definitely not the type to tolerate being pushed or shoved around. Though what he finds on Keith’s face is unreadable, and those violet eyes are already staring back at him when their gazes meet.

“So… where to first?” Lance asks, donning a wide smile. Keith looks confused, like the question caught him completely off guard, as he retreats into himself a bit and shoves his hands into his pockets. He almost looks caught on the edge of a scowl, though he’s quick to chase it away before it can take root.

“No preference. What’s your favorite store?” 

“Oh, I have way too many to pick just _one_ , Keith.” Lance counters, a thinly-veiled threat. If Keith doesn’t want them to be stuck here all night, he’d better make a decision for once in his life instead of leaving it in Lance’s hands to decide what they do. Except, for all his complaining and grumbling the way here, Keith doesn’t look very panicked at the thought of staying a while. He looks indifferent.

“Well, we’ve got time.”

“I’m serious, speak now or forever hold your piece. I’ll drag you from one end of this mall to the other for hours, Keith, _hours_.” Lance tries once more, eyes wide and expectant. Keith shoots him a weird look, like he doesn’t understand the message he’s trying to convey, or why.

“All that’s waiting on us at home is episode six of Cryptid Hunters. It’ll still be there no matter when we get back. I’m in no rush.” Keith insists, shrugging his shoulders. And Lance… doesn’t really know what to do with that. It’s not often that he finds himself dragging a boy around the mall that’s not explicitly his friend or explicitly _not_ his friend. Hell, even his actual boyfriends had always been less accommodating than what Keith is being now.

“Uh-huh.” Lance breathes, eyeing him warily. “You asked for this.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Keith promises, eyes alight with amusement as he gestures for Lance to take the lead. He didn’t exactly come here to spend his own money, he doesn’t have much to spare with rent coming out next week, but damn if he can admit that without admitting to the whole master plan of trying to see Keith in his natural element. Besides, Lance loves to shop, it’s hardly a punishment to be forced to now.

Just to be a little shit, Lance starts out by dragging Keith into the most blatantly un-Keith-like stores in the mall, begging him to oppose it. And after browsing aisles of overpriced make-up and women’s clothes while getting utterly no reaction out of Keith, he takes it up a notch and drags the other boy into Hot Topic with a grin that’s downright devilish. At this, Keith grumbles, but he doesn’t walk straight back out or argue, he just looks visibly annoyed the entire time he’s there as Lance holds up fake tattoo sleeves and cropped leather jackets to his frame, teasing. 

After that, they end up in a nice clothing store, one of the privately-owned little boutique shops where even the accessories cost a hundred dollars. Again, not the kind of place where Lance would normally shop, but something about having Keith trailing along beside him works up his confidence.

And well, again, though it hadn’t been his _intention_ … Lance finds himself having fun. A lot of fun.

It’s not often he can convince someone to come with him and sit by while he tries on countless outfits, pondering over every single purchase to the point of being annoying about it. But it’s not the same thing at all to go alone, not when half the fun is the feedback he gets. He needs opinions other than his own when he’s shopping, or else he ends up buying things that he’ll never actually wear.

Except, Keith isn’t very reactional at the best of times, and now is no exception. He settles himself on one of the little benches outside the changing rooms and completely invests himself in his phone, not even glancing up when Lance comes skipping out to show off his first pick. 

It’s his favorite thing in the store, a shimmery multicolor dress shirt. It’s a little formal compared to his normal tastes and he has no idea where he’d ever wear it, but it looks beautiful on him. He can’t stop staring in the mirror when he’s inside the stall, and he expects a similar reaction from Keith when he walks out.

Apparently that’s asking for too much.

Lance stares directly at him for thirty whole seconds before his patience wanes and he clears his throat pointedly, hands settling on his hips. Still, Keith doesn’t look up from his phone.

“What do you think? It’s cute on me, _right_?”

“Sure.” Keith mumbles, without ever looking up. Asshole.

“Wow, what stellar input.” The sarcasm is sickeningly heavy in his voice, as he turns to Keith and stares until the other boy finally lifts his gaze from his phone. He does seem a bit startled by the outfit Lance is wearing, now that he’s actually caught sight of it, but it’s still less of a reaction than Lance was hoping for when he put it on. There’s no whooping and shouting praise, there’s not even an awkward and stifled compliment, so how is Lance even meant to know that his hesitation had been a positive reaction?

You know, aside from the fact that he knows he looks damn fucking good and Keith would have to be blind not to agree with that.

With a long dismayed sigh, he fishes his phone out of his pocket and turns back to the mirror. Slowly, he lifts it, positions it at just the right angle to capture his best pose. “Guess I’ll have to send some pictures to my many adoring admirers and ask for their opinions instead. I’m sure they’ll be kinder than you.”

“Please tell me I’m not in frame.” Keith deadpans from behind him, otherwise unbothered. Until he’d brought it up, Lance had actually been keeping him out of frame. He intended to post these pictures on his porn account and he wasn’t such an inconsiderate douche that he’d let anyone else be in the photos he posted there, especially without consent. But, well, now that Keith’s given him an opportunity to mess with him, that takes priority over content for his blog.

He grins wide and unabashed, a shit-eating smile as he angles the phone just slightly to the right and makes sure he catches Keith’s betrayed slack-jawed gasp. “Seriously?!”

“I’m gonna tag you and everything, leech off your internet fame.” Lance teases, sticking his tongue out at the camera and snapping another photo. It’s only in his phone screen that he notices the way Keith jumps to his feet, and before he has time to whip around and react, Keith is already snatching his phone directly out of his hand. Lance pales, gaping at him. “Hey!”

He moves to try and grab it back, but Keith evades him effortlessly, surprisingly light on his feet. He lurches backward, shoves the phone back up between them and into Lance’s face, and Lance hears the camera shutter sound effect loud and clear. His outrage grows, an indignant squawk leaving his lips, knowing he’d been making a damn ugly face when that picture was taken.

“Smile, you won’t lure in those adoring admirers with a scowl.” Keith teases around a laugh, those elusive dimples making an appearance on either side of his face. Then, because he’s a performer and a people-pleaser first and a human being second, Lance caves and adorns his most convincing smile at the camera. Keith snaps a few more pics and then hands the phone back over without a fight, though Lance is peeved to see the photo with Keith in the background is conveniently deleted.

However, before he gets a chance to comment on it, Keith is speaking up again. “How much is the shirt?”

“I never even looked.” Lance gasps in realization, turning to tug the tag out of his sleeve. Immediately, his blood runs cold, and he gingerly tucks it right back up in there. Damn. He knew this place was expensive, but that was almost as much as a month’s rent. No shirt is worth that much, brand and designer be damned, it was outrageous. Lance relays as much too, looking at Keith with a scowl. “ _Too much_. Way too much.” 

“Bummer.” Keith offers, though he doesn’t sound like he cares particularly either way.

Lance does the walk of shame back to the dressing room after that, frowning slightly to himself as he does the math on just how many nudes he’d have to sell to justify impulsively purchasing a shirt that overpriced. It’s a shame, he’d looked really nice in it, but it can’t be helped. He strips it off and drapes it over the stall door, going about changing his pants.

When he leaves the changing room, Keith is surprisingly not in the same spot he left him.

Luckily it only takes a minute of looking around the store, peering over the racks of clothing, to locate him. He’s standing by the discount rack near the doors, flicking through the coat hangers one by one, with an utterly uninvested expression. He really does make quite the image, standing in a formal-wear store where everything is pristine and pastel, while dressed in ripped jeans and a leather jacket. Hell, he’s wearing those stupid fingerless gloves and everything.

Lance approaches him from behind, slaps a hand on his shoulder and startles him in the process.

“Ready to go? Next store?”

“You’re not getting anything?” Keith asks, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Most of the fun is in the window shopping, Keith, don’t you know anything about shopping?” Lance offers easily, rolling his shoulders as he heads toward the doors. The cashier’s gaze follows him, no doubt judging him for spending so much time trying things on only to leave empty-handed. Maybe she thinks he’s stealing from them. Nevermind that Keith is also still staring at him, disbelief written across all of his features. “Alright, you got me. I would love to buy everything in here that catches my eye, but as it is I don’t think I can afford a hair elastic. The freelance work has been slow this month and I’m on a budget.”

“Uh-huh.” Keith mumbles, following after him. It’s only after they’re out of the store and Lance turns to Keith, ready to suggest they get some food together or head home, that his eyes catch sight of the black bag half-hidden behind Keith’s back. He’s not making much effort to hide it, but just enough that Lance didn’t notice right away. His eyes widen comically.

“Did you buy something?!” Lance asks with growing excitement, wondering if his plan had been a success after all. “Keith! I’m so proud! Look at you, actually treating yourself for once in your-”

“Not for me.” Keith corrects, softly. And then he’s holding the bag out to Lance, pointedly averting his eyes like he can’t bear the vulnerability that comes with this moment. Even before he looks, Lance thinks that he knows what to expect, though he doesn’t dare to hope. Sure enough, the shirt is folded neatly and tucked into the bag, the receipt tucked right in with it and boldly showing off the price. 

Lance thinks he’s going to be sick. 

“You can’t be fucking serious.” Lance begs him to object, to say that this is all a prank somehow. There’s no way that he seriously just bought that shirt, spent multiple hundreds of dollars on a swath of fucking fabric, pretty fabric or not. Lance’s head is reeling. No one, not even his closest friends and family, have ever spent that much on a gift for him, let alone a gift with no _reason_ behind it.

“It was cute on you.” Keith offers without looking at him, answering his earlier question unexpectedly. It catches Lance completely off guard, has his mind abruptly short-circuiting. He doesn’t think Keith has ever expressed the barest hint of warmth toward him, let alone such an outright compliment as that one. Once again, he drops his gaze down to the shirt in the bag, feeling compelled to tear up over it.

“ _Keith_.” Lance’s voice cracks and that seems to send Keith into action all at once. He darts ahead and starts walking down the stretch of the mall, and Lance is left to rush after him and swipe the unshed tears from his eyes, sniffling like an idiot all the while. “Allergic to affection, aren’t you?”

“You said you had too many favorite stores to choose just one and I’d like to get home before midnight, if it’s all the same to you.” Keith mutters almost angrily, his shoulders hunched up around his ears, visibly tense down to his core. Lance can’t help it, he finds himself smirking. He sidles up close to Keith’s side, elbows him to get his attention.

“You know, I have a theory.”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“You love theories, the more obscure the better.” Lance argues, before continuing anyway. “I think you’re enjoying this. I think you _like_ shopping, you just don’t have anything you need and you’re such a boring minimalist that you can’t justify buying anything you don’t. And that’s why you keep buying me shit, because I’m a materialistic hoe and you know I’ll appreciate it, plus you get the rush of endorphins that comes from spending money. Am I right?”

“Would you believe me if I said no?”

“Well, maybe if you give me a more believable reason you just spent the better part of a thousand dollars on me.” Lance suggests, looking expectantly to Keith. But no answer comes, Keith still making a very valiant effort to not look him in the eye. The gears in Lance’s mind turn harder then, trying to make sense of the situation all on his own. “This isn’t a charity thing, is it? I know I said I didn’t make as much this month, but I have plenty to get by, I don’t need-”

“You’re reading too much into it.” Keith interjects, rather unexpectedly. It catches Lance off guard just enough that he’s left gaping for a few seconds, long enough for Keith to second-guess himself and elaborate even further. “You wanted it. I had the means to give you it. So I did.”

“Alright, if it’s _that_ simple, how come you didn’t pay for _everyone_ in the store?”

“I don’t _know_ everyone in the store, Lance.”

“Ah-ha! So it _is_ personal!” He accuses, pointing at Keith so enthusiastically that he ends up jabbing a finger into his cheek. Keith scowls at him, reaching up to mechanically remove his hand from his personal bubble, eyebrows arched toward his hairline in an unspoken challenge. Lance doesn’t rise to it, instead shrinking sheepishly back from him.

“Ever hear that saying, about not looking gift horses in the mouth?” Keith asks him pointedly.

“Yeah, and though I understand what it means, who the hell _came up with it_ ? When were horse dental problems such a relatable issue that it became a common idiom? If you ask me, it’s a stupid saying anyway, because gift horse or not, if it has problems then it could end up _costing you_ in vet bills and then what?! You’re out money, all because you accepted a horse, a Trojan horse if you will, that was hiding beneath it’s free price tag some unfortunate vices.” Distantly, Lance is aware that he’s rambling, but he can’t stop himself now that his nerves are amounting. Keith is just… standing there, staring at him, and he’s not used to having so much of the man’s undivided attention.

It also doesn’t help that this is… a thing. For Lance. It’s a fucking thing, alright? It more or less comes with the territory of owning a porn blog so it should come as a surprise to no one, but Lance likes to be spoiled. With attention, compliments, praise, yes. But also with money, gifts, physical demonstrations of admiration and appreciation. 

Anyway, to make a damn long story short, Lance has always wanted a sugar daddy. 

Not out of necessity, he really isn’t hard-up for cash, he’s doing better than a lot of guys his age. Not because he particularly fancies older men or the entire idea of the power dynamic. He doesn’t have a daddy kink either, that he knows of. He just… likes it when people buy him things. Materialistic hoe, remember? He has a lot of irresponsible purchases he’s always dying to make and the idea of having someone that treasures him enough to buy it all for him? That’s golden. That’s the dream.

And he knows that isn’t what’s happening here, obviously, Keith hardly tolerates him at the best of times. He also seriously doubts that Keith is getting off on this or getting anything at all out of it, despite the accusations he’s just made. He thinks Keith just has so much money he doesn’t know what to do with it all, and Lance is the lucky fool who ended up in the right place at the right time to benefit from that. It’s not personal. Lance isn’t going to let himself believe it’s personal.

Because, frankly, it’s a slippery slope from there. His existent crush will skyrocket into something massive and out of control, something that’ll steal all his sense from him. 

“A thank-you would suffice, for future reference.” Keith deadpans, eventually.

“ _Thanks, Keith_.” Lance tries not to let too much sarcasm sink into it, because despite the pettiness he really is genuinely thankful. Keith looks like he understands though, as he huffs and blows his bangs out of his face, rolling his eyes with an air of fondness that’s unmistakable.

“ _You’re welcome_.” Keith quips right back, staring boredly back at him. Lance is just about to suggest they head to the food court to change the subject when another distraction sneaks up on them, in the form of a shout echoing through the open space of the mall. It’s enough to have them both flinching and jumping in surprise, heads whipping in the direction of the source of the noise.

“ _Lance_!”

“Romelle!” Lance shouts, approximately half a second later once he’s recognized the voice. He spins around just in time to brace himself for the impact as she collides with him in a clumsy hug, nearly spilling the drink she’s carrying in the process. He laughs, stumbling backward and managing to get his feet back under himself. From behind her, he can see Allura approaching, idly stirring her straw around in her iced coffee. “Hey guys! Didn’t expect to see you tonight. I meant to text you back about tomorrow night, but I’ve been busy-”

“Yeah, we _see that_ .” Romelle interrupts, eyes darting to the side in a very blatant display. She rakes her gaze over Keith, very clearly biting her tongue to keep the questions from spilling. “Who’s your _friend_?”

“Oh, this?” Lance jerks a thumb over his shoulder, at the aforementioned friend. “This is my roommate, Keith.”

“I figured.” Allura speaks up, stepping forward and extending a hand. Keith takes it, giving it a hearty shake, and Lance doesn’t miss the near-imperceptible twitch of her eyes as she catches sight of the fabled fingerless gloves for the first time. Oh, Lance has definitely rented to his friends about those damn gloves, in various states of sober and intoxicated. “Nice to meet you, Keith. Lance has told us so much about you, this feels overdue.”

“Has he?” Keith sounds confused. Fuck. Lance hopes the heat he can feel crawling across his skin isn’t forming a visible blush. “Can’t say the same, sorry. He’s never really mentioned any of his friends other than Hunk and Pidge.”

“Tsk, tsk, Lance, keeping us a secret?”

“Sorry, my school life just doesn’t come up much at home.” Lance offers, turning to Keith with an apologetic smile. It’d never occurred to him just how little he’d actually told Keith about what he got up to outside of the house. “We had a bunch of classes in common during freshman year, less so now but we still make a point to go out together whenever we can to catch up. These girls can give me a run for my money at beer pong, but so far I’m clinging to my title of reigning champ.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts.” Allura scoffs, sticking her tongue out at him. Lance sneers right back at her, so distracted in their wordless fight that he misses the mischievous light that dawns in Romelle’s eyes as she comes up with what is no doubt a terrible idea.

“You should invite Keith out tomorrow night!”

Ah, fuck.

Lance tries not to physically recoil from Romelle’s arms at the suggestion, but it’s a lost cause. He ends up backing out of the hug, a wavering smile stretched thin across his lips. He doesn’t even dare to look in Keith’s direction, worried about what he might see there. Things were just starting to settle down between them after the disaster that was their origin story. Lance really, really isn’t looking for a repeat of that night by inviting Keith out drinking with his uni buddies.

“I don’t know that he’s really the party type.” Lance offers, which garners him all-around unimpressed stares from everyone, including Keith. So he thinks fast, impulsively blurts out an invite without thinking it through fully. “Unless you would maybe want to? I mean, you’re welcome to, if it sounds like your kind of thing. I’m not trying to exclude you, I just wasn’t sure if you-”

“Are you gonna get so loaded you forget who I am tomorrow?” Keith asks, as brutally blunt as always. Ah well, at least Lance can give up on ignoring the elephant in the room. He might as well follow Keith’s lead and bring it to light, despite the fact they haven’t talked about it once since the day it happened.

“Ha, very funny.” Lance laughs drily. “I don’t think I could forget you now even if I tried.”

“I should hope so, we literally live together.” Keith tells him, but thankfully there’s a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, like he can’t fight it no matter how he tries to remain as stoic and unreadable as always. It’s a major relief, has Lance remembering to breathe again. It seems to relax Romelle and Allura as well, who up until that point had been silently bearing witness to the whole exchange.

“So, can we count on you to show up? It’s way more fun when it isn’t just Lance third-wheeling us.”

“Hey! I’m not a third-wheel, I’m a perfectly valuable member of the-”

“Yeah, I’m down. Been a while since I went out, it could be fun.” Keith speaks over him, perhaps on purpose, annoyed by the indignant squawking. Lance can hardly be offended though, not when he’s too busy being shocked by what Keith’s said, the fact that he’s agreed to fucking go out with them. That was the last response Lance had been expecting. 

“Great!” Allura grins. “Lance will tell you all the details, you guys can probably even carpool to the bar together, flip a coin on who has to be the designated driver or order a cab or something.”

Romelle and Allura end up accompanying them to the food court and sitting down to eat with them, keeping the conversation flowing and the atmosphere light. Even Keith contributes more than usual, and Lance can’t help but be impressed by all the social skills he was apparently hoarding away all this time, deciding not to bother using. Him and Allura spend a long time talking about tattoos, to the point that Lance and Romelle are left to entertain themselves by whispering gossip to each other, or making fun of the other people settled around the food court.

Eventually, though, the moment does come to an end.

“Don’t forget to bring him tomorrow, Lance! We wanna get to know the guy you’ve been spending all your time holed up with lately!” Romelle insists, shouting it over her shoulder as she walks away from the table, trailing behind her girlfriend. Lance waves her off eagerly, glad she won’t have any further chances to embarrass him in front of Keith or make their delicate relationship any weaker than it already is. Of course, tomorrow will surely be worse, once everyone has some alcohol into their system.

“Are we gonna talk about it?” Lance asks, leaning forward over the table and resting his chin in his hands, watching as Keith scarfs down the last few bites of his burger. Afterward, he grabs for a napkin and clumsily wipes his face, all the while avoiding eye contact. Eventually, Lance can’t take it, and tries again. “You know, now that we’re closer and it isn’t the only experience we’ve had together.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Keith responds, sounding almost wary about the entire topic. He eyes Lance as he speaks, suspicion shining in his dark eyes. “We already talked about it, decided to leave it in the past, forget it ever happened.”

“Clearly neither of us _succeeded_ at that.” 

“Oh, I don’t know, I think you _succeeded_ pretty well considering the whole reason it happened to begin with was you forgetting.” Keith counters, and now that he’s talking, Lance is wondering if he should have left it alone, if he made a mistake wishing for this. The bitterness is still heavy in Keith’s tone and though it isn’t unwarranted, Lance still feels underprepared to handle it. He cowers a little bit, guiltily staring down at the table between them, thinking hard about what to say. “You really didn’t remember, it wasn’t a shitty excuse you came up with on the spot to blow me off?”

“I honestly didn’t.” Lance promises. “I still don’t.”

“Huh.” Keith muses, like he still hadn’t fully considered that Lance was telling the truth this entire time through. Then, a steely resolve washes over him, and his voice takes on a much more serious element as he continues. “We didn’t fuck. For the record. I need you to know that.”

“Good. I assumed as much.” Lance answers, like a fucking idiot. Immediately, even without witnessing Keith’s flinch, he knows he’s misspoken. That didn’t come across how he wanted it to, fuck, fuck it all. He meant to say that if he had fucked Keith he would hope to remember it. “Fuck. I just. I didn’t mean it _like that_! I just meant that… I’d want to be there for it, you know, if it were to happen. Hypothetically.”

“It’s not going to.” Keith doesn’t miss a beat before establishing that much, like there’s nothing more important to him than getting that message across loud and clear. And oh, he succeeded, because Lance feels it like a hit to the stomach, like an actual bonafide rejection despite not opening up about his own feelings yet. He nods his head immediately, accepting of it.

“Right. Of course not. We’d be terrible together.” Lance lies, through his teeth.

“We would.”

“I’m so loud and obnoxious, I’m way too high-maintenance for you to handle. We’d fight all the time, mostly over how long I take to get ready, or how terrible I am with money, or how flirty I am with strangers all the fucking time because that always comes up in relationships.” This part isn’t a lie, not a single word of it. He’s had enough exes tell him his flaws throughout his life, he’s agonized over every last one, there’s no use trying to deny them now. “And then you’re… you know, you. So it wouldn’t work. For obvious reasons.”

“Yeah.”

“Yep, we missed our shot. That ship has sailed. That chicken has _flown_ the coop. That spark has fizzled out and-”

“Who are you trying to convince if we’re both already on the same page?” Keith finally interrupts his rambling and Lance can only be thankful for it, who knows how long he would have gone on about it otherwise. But it leaves him speechless, staring at Keith and fumbling uselessly for words, coming up short time and time again. Finally, Keith takes pity on him. “I’m not mad about it. Anymore. If you’re worried about that. I just don’t think we work together like that. Nothing personal.”

“Yeah, of course, no hard feelings.”

“Besides, I’m not really looking for anything right now anyway.” It’s strange. Very strange. But it’s almost like Keith is the one rambling now, adding more and more on, the tips of his ears beginning to flush pink as he grows more flustered about the topic. “I have… someone… in my life, and they take care of all my needs well enough. It’s not romantic and we’re not exclusive, but that’s fine. I’m not looking to get involved in anything more serious.”

“What, like a friend with benefits?” Lance asks, making sure to keep it sounding open-minded and judgment-free. He’s not the type to criticize anyone else for their decisions. It’s just… he hadn’t seen it coming, that’s all. Keith had never mentioned anyone, hadn’t even alluded to the possibility. And sure, they weren’t exactly besties by any stretch of the term yet, but Lance had thought they were at least close enough to discuss that. 

Keith looks at him, shrugs his shoulders. That pretty much just leaves it up to interpretation, then, but the point is that he has someone in his life and he’s not looking. So Lance should give it up. Not that he thought he had much of a chance to begin with. “Huh. Didn’t peg you for the type.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, just that every time I mention sex you get all scowly and hissy, like a particularly rabid wild cat that’s been living under a barn for a few-” Keith interrupts him with a seething sort-of noise, only really working to prove the point he’d been trying to make. “Yeah! That’s the look!”

“Some people like their private life to remain just that… _private_.” Keith snipes at him, eyes narrowed.

“Fair enough.” Lance raises his hands in front of himself, playfully defensive. “Not my place. I get that.”

“It’s a long-distance thing.” Keith adds then, suddenly, unexpectedly. It seems to come out of the blue, like a last minute decision, and though Lance can’t be sure… it almost looks like Keith immediately regrets sharing the information. Lance is happy to have it though, it answers a few of his many questions.

“Oh.” Lance nods slowly, gives him a clumsy thumbs-up from across the table. “Good for you.”

“Yeah.” Keith breathes, looking down at the crumbs of food still on his tray. “Yeah, it is good for me.”

\--

In hindsight, Keith isn’t exactly sure _why_ he agreed to come tonight.

His better judgment had immediately started with the red alerts the very moment Lance’s friends had brought it up to him, alarms blaring at the thought of being around a drunken and flirty Lance again after what happened the last time. His initial and immediate decision had been a firm no, that he could think of a _million_ things he’d prefer to accompanying Lance out drinking. And yet, here he was, doing just that.

He thinks it had something to do with the way Lance had clammed up next to him, practically radiating guilt and unease, as those wide blue eyes turned to gauge his reaction. Maybe it was a desire to be unpredictable, and after seeing Lance so clearly assuming he’d be uninterested, Keith had done the opposite out of spite alone. Or maybe it was something else entirely, a desire to comfort Lance, to make him feel less guilt for what he’d done all those months ago.

Keith isn’t sure, even now. It’s undeniable that a part of him is sickeningly curious about how the night will play out though. He can only imagine that Lance will be on his best behaviour, will be annoying about it, about catering to Keith’s every whim to make sure he doesn’t do anything he’ll come to regret again. Keith can’t say he’s looking forward to it.

… _But_ he also can’t say that he’s dreading it enough to forgo the entire outing.

So there he finds himself, wearing an outfit he spent entirely too long mulling over for a platonic night out, and scowling hard enough to frighten the dead to counteract the fact he can’t stop fucking blushing the entire way to the car. Lance is already behind the wheel waiting for him and Keith feels a bit guilty about taking so long. Somehow, Lance was finished getting ready before Keith, which is miraculous in itself and a true indicator to _just how long_ Keith had taken.

“Hey, you look nice!” Lance greets him with, reaching over to push an armful of junk off his passenger seat so Keith has a place to sit. His car is almost hilariously messy in comparison to their house, but Keith doesn’t dare to comment on it, feels like it’ll strike a nerve to bring it up. Instead he just climbs in and makes himself comfortable, nodding over at Lance in greeting.

“You too.” He finds himself saying, before actually taking the time to look at Lance. But when he does, he’s pleased to see that he’d been right, that “ _nice_ ” might even be an understatement. Lance is wearing the shirt that he bought him and though a part of him had been prepared for it after seeing him try it on yesterday, it hits different now knowing that he paid for it and Lance is wearing it out with pride. It sates something deep inside of Keith he hadn’t been entirely aware of even wanting until now.

See, he may be confused about why he agreed to go out tonight, but he’s not confused at all about why he bought this for Lance. Against his initial wishes, he finds himself caring about Lance more and more as time passes. And when he has so much money to spare, it only makes sense to share it with those he cares about. He’s always been of that mindset. As someone who came from nothing, he has people to thank (namely Shiro) for everything he has in life now. 

Granted, usually he used his riches to buy practical things, rather than designer clothing brands, but… well, Lance has different tastes from Shiro. He’s more materialistic, more obsessed with the finer things in life, cares more about luxury than practicality. Still, the mindset remains the same overall: Lance wants something, Keith is capable of giving it to him, so why wouldn’t he? 

And if Lance always reacts like he did yesterday, all flushed and genuine, flustered beyond belief… well, let’s just say there’s something in it for Keith too, alright? It’s not an _entirely_ selfless act, if he’s being perfectly honest. A part of him is already looking out for his next opportunity to spoil the other boy, just to see a reaction like that one again. 

Luckily for him (or unluckily, depending how you look at it), tonight brings opportunities with it aplenty.

From the moment they arrive at the bar, Keith is overwhelmed by the amount of people he’s passed around between and introduced to. Where he’d been expecting to see just the familiar faces of Allura and Romelle, there are countless other people in the friend group, most of which far more loud and outgoing than he could ever hope to be. It would be all too easy to fade into the background and go unnoticed, but just when he starts to feel overwhelmed Lance is always there to fill the silence, while somehow managing to keep him involved.

For the first hour all Keith does is follow Lance around and stand awkwardly beside him as Lance gushes about his work, even going so far as to pull up photos on his phone a couple times. And it should be embarrassing, should leave the same sour taste in his mouth that it does when Shiro tries to show him off. But instead it has something warm and pleased radiating in Keith’s chest, so much so that he forgets to be invested in everyone’s reactions to meeting him, instead completely glued to Lance the entire time.

So, naturally, he wants to repay him. He’s just not quite so good with words, or emotions as a whole, so he defaults to something that he knows Lance likes… and offers to pay for the entire group’s meals.. He doesn’t even know how many people are here, only that he has enough money, and that it’ll surely please Lance. Granted, Lance looks at him like he’s lost his mind, while everyone else gets rowdy and excitable, cheering him on like he’s a saint. 

He approaches him afterward, when they both settle into a private booth in the corner of the room to eat their meals. Keith’s sure they’ll be joined by more people soon, but for now it’s just the two of them in the most quiet corner the establishment has to offer.

“Hey.”

“This is good. You should’ve gone with it instead of the chicken.”

“You sure you can pay for all of this? There’s like thirty people here, Keith.”

“Trust me, Lance, I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t confident I could.”

“Why _did_ you offer? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“It seemed like a nice thing to do.”

“You’re not nice.” Lance accuses, then immediately seems to think better of it. “Okay, I take that back, you’re very nice. But not selflessly and randomly, especially not to people you don’t care about. And considering I was there for every single person you met tonight, I really don’t think you clicked with any of them. Not enough to justify this, at least.”

“Just trying to live up to the light you paint me in, I guess.”

“You don’t have to try. You already do. You’re great, Keith, you don’t need to throw your money around to prove that to anyone. The people that matter will see it.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you kidding me? Thank _you_! You’re the one going out of your way for me, for everyone here.”

About an hour after everyone’s eaten, Keith finds himself sitting in that same corner booth and watching with amusement as Lance stumbles around dancing with his friends. He’s the only sober one out of all of them, insistent as he is about avoiding a repeat of the last time he’d been drunk in Keith’s presence. Even Keith has caved by now, had ordered something to take the edge off all the shouting and laughter ringing loud in his ears. But Lance holds true to his word, only drinking water.

It doesn’t seem to be spoiling his fun in the slightest though. He’s still just as animated as the rest of them, is definitely a better dancer though Keith doubts the alcohol has anything to do with that. It’s all Lance, his natural skill, his commitment to looking annoyingly sexy at any given moment. It’s almost amusing, more than once Keith finds himself grinning against the bottle pressed to his lips, hiding behind it so no one calls him out on the blatant fondness on his face.

It’s unnecessary, given that moments after that a man approaches Lance and pulls him in to a grind that’s downright filthy. Everyone on the dancefloor pairs off after that, but Keith’s gaze is glued to one couple in particular. The guy that’s gripping at Lance almost possessively, the one spinning him around and pulling him in hungrily, the one mouthing across the nape of his neck. Keith finds himself glaring now instead of smiling, the lighthearted easy atmosphere vanished from the room.

The man’s name is Lotor, as Keith regrettably comes to find out when he sits down across from him at his peaceful booth. Admittedly, Lance is there too, leaning into Lotor’s side and introducing him to Keith like there’s any chance in hell they’d get along. Everything about them is opposite, but more than that… Keith just hates him. Because reasons.

The entire time they’re sitting there, Lotor is making not-so-discreet eyes at Lance. It’s not surprising, per se, Keith has eyes too and he knows Lance is attractive… it’s just, _strange_ to see it in action. To see the way Lance flirts effortlessly back. He turns, meets his gaze, winks lavisciously right at him.

Keith curls his hands into fists in his lap.

It reminds him of the night they’d met, when Lance had flirted with him. Granted, he’d been drunk, and not nearly as good at it as he clearly is sober, but the point stands. It’s strange for Keith to see it again under such different circumstances. Stranger still how it fills the pit of his stomach with an envy so fierce he sees green. He has to distract himself, finds the distraction in the form of a bottle he tips back and chugs down too enthusiastically.

Slowly, he starts to feel more carefree about things. He still doesn’t like the way Lotor has been holding Lance’s attention for the better part of an hour, doesn’t like it one bit. It’s just now he has enough liquid courage in his system to actually do something about it. He’s not blunt or bold about it, even tipsy he isn’t that forward of a person. He doesn’t demand that Lance stop giving Lotor attention, he just… finds ways to direct Lance’s focus onto him instead.

It’s easy enough.

It starts with something as simple as accidentally knocking their feet together under the table, then slowly amounts until he’s playing a full-blown game of footsies beneath the table. And it’s stupid, don’t get him wrong, he knows it’s stupid. It’s not like they’re stealing glances and giggling like children, it’s more of an absentminded kind-of thing. But he sees it every now and then, the ghost of a smile across Lance’s lips while he’s talking to Lotor, a reaction that has no right being there when he knows damn well nothing Lotor is saying is interesting enough to warrant it. They’re talking about their classes, for fuck’s sake, how boring is that?

Given their competitive natures, it isn’t long before they’re being obvious enough about it that Lotor’s brows pinch together in confusion as he observes the two of them. Still, Keith keeps making a valiant effort to stomp down on Lance’s foot, avidly biting his lips to keep from chuckling now. 

Eventually, Lotor starts to smile like he’s in on the joke, toothy and wicked about it.

“Are you two…” Lotor asks, trailing off before he’s even fully asked the question. It’s clear anyway though, as his gaze darts between Lance and Keith, lingering somewhere between them like he’s imagining how their hands would look intertwined beneath the table’s edge. It has Keith flushing, even though it’s the practical conclusion to jump to with how they’ve been acting all night.

“No!” Lance blurts, almost hurried as he rushes to reject the idea. And though Keith had been on the brink of doing the same, denying strong and certain, now he feels the slightest bit miffed. It’s not from any lack of desire on Lance’s end, after all. He was the first one to make a move the night they’d met, had been forward, bordering on the line of desperate about it. There’s no question about whether he finds Keith attractive, that’d been answered before they’d even exchanged names.

But apparently that’s not the sort-of thing he wants his friend to know. Or maybe he’s still trying to be respectful to Keith, trying not to make him uncomfortable. Either way, it settles heavy in Keith’s gut, wipes the smile from his face in an instant. It reminds him too closely of the morning after, of how quick Lance had been to dismiss everything that happened between them.

The conversation between Lance and Lotor picks back up after that, but Keith doesn’t pay any attention to it. Within minutes, he’s lost interest enough to rise to his feet and seek out another drink. He tells himself it’ll be his last for the night, likely. He doesn’t want to get actually drunk, as much as he does trust Lance, he doesn’t know anyone else here and he doesn’t often let himself relax around strangers.

It almost startles him when he’s halfway across the room and he hears the quiet footsteps just behind him, picking up speed to reach him. It doesn’t take him long to figure it out though, to glance back and smile at the familiar face in the same instance Lance reaches his side. Lance’s hand settles on the small of his back, steering him into one of the many stools lining the bar. 

He settles and orders his own drink while Lance sits next to him, leaning his elbow on the bartop and tucking his chin into his palm. He stares openly at Keith, doesn’t even bother to be coy about it.

“What was that about back there?” Lance asks eventually, eyeing him curiously.

“What was _what_ about?” 

“Alright, have it your way.” Lance chuckles, getting a bottle of water for himself. He’s still looking at Keith though, as they both tip their respective drinks back. It’s a strange moment to hold eye contact, Keith ends up being the first to look away. The moment he does, Lance finds the confidence to speak up and ask the obvious question. “You have something against Lotor?”

“He’s boring. Kind-of a snob. Comes across condescending no matter what he’s talking about.” Keith lists these traits off easily, given he’d observed all of them in the first minute of meeting the man. “But strictly speaking, no. I don’t have a problem with him. He’s not my favorite of your friends, but I don’t hate the guy. He seems nice enough, if that’s your type of thing.”

“If _what’s_ my type of thing?” Lance questions, sounding a little incredulous. But Keith doesn’t bother to offer anything in way of elaboration, so eventually Lance just speaks up again on his own. It takes Keith by surprise when he does, and the moment he realizes what’s been said it nearly has him choking around a mouthful of vodka. “ _Hey, you wanna get out of here_?”

The moment Keith’s steadied his breathing, he looks at Lance like he’s lost his mind. His eyebrows crawl toward his hairline, his jaw dropping in disbelief. Lance just stares right back at him, not an ounce of shame visible in his expression. Keith isn’t sure what to make of it exactly… would be lying if he said he didn’t find it a little attractive. But that could be the alcohol talking.

“Seriously, Lance, did you think that shit was gonna work?” Keith scoffs. “I’m not _that_ drunk.”

“No, I didn’t mean it in a sleazy way. I just mean… you seem bored.” Lance offers, looking around the room to where everyone has partnered off in twos and threes. He bites his lip. “I didn’t realize so many people were coming, I thought I’d get more chances to hang with Allura and Romelle, but I think it’s going to be one of those nights where everyone gets wasted. And, I don’t know, that doesn’t seem like your scene and I’m not drinking tonight. If I’m being perfectly honest, I think we could have more fun at home, even _with_ our clothes on.”

“Oh, how charming.” Keith jokes. Then, because he likes watching Lance squirm and he isn’t going to be too easy about it, he slides out of his seat and nods toward where Lotor is still eyeing Lance from the other side of the room. “You’re not going home with _him_?”

“Who? _Lotor_ ? _What_?! Keith, he’s just a friend! Why would you-” Lance stutters over his words, visibly flustered by the suggestion. He does seem genuinely shocked by it though, like he hadn’t even entertained the thought. He composes himself without any further comment from Keith, drawing a deep breath and collecting himself all at once. “No. No way. I promised to be designated driver, that’s not a title I hold lightly, you know.”

With that, Keith chuckles and shakes his head, starting toward the door before he’s even given Lance a proper answer to the offer. He looks back over his shoulder a moment later, finding Lance still frozen in place with a look of disbelief warring across his features. Keith beckons him in with a hitched finger.

“Alright, come drive me home, _chauffeur_.” 

Not long after, they find themselves in Lance’s car again. Keith pushes his seat back and props a foot up on the dash, boot leaving a dirty outline in its wake, and Lance doesn’t even spare a second glance. He looks distracted, bottom lip drawn back between his teeth as he worries it.

“Hey, I know I said we should head home, but can I show you something else instead?” Lance asks brightly, clapping a hand against the steering wheel and looking expectantly over at him. Keith blanks a bit, uncertainty seeping into him. “I swear, Keith, stop looking at me like I’m gonna try to jump you! _Yes, I’m attracted to you_ , good to know we’re both on the same page, it’s not like I’ve been discreet about it. But I’m not, we’re not… it’s not like that. I’m not _trying_ to get in your pants. I like you as a friend, I’m cool with just being friends if that’s all you want, and I’m not going to actively push for more. This is good. I like this.”

“Fine.” Keith blurts quickly, before he’s even aware of the fact he’s made up his mind about it. Anything to distract from what Lance has just said, what he’s confessed to. How else is Keith meant to respond to that? When it inspires such a confusing mixture of emotions within him? No, it’s for the best that they just gloss over it, for the time being. “Where are you taking me, huh?”

“Okay, to be totally transparent, it’s sort-of the local hang-out spot for teens that want to hook-up, but that’s not _why_ we’re going!” Lance explains hastily, like he’s still worried Keith might have the wrong idea. In truth, Keith knows Lance well enough by now to trust him. He knows that Lance isn’t that type of guy, though he’d definitely gotten that impression from him to begin with. Lance isn’t some badass playboy leaving a string of broken hearts everywhere he goes, no matter how he tries to play himself off that way. He’s actually deeply emotional, caring to his core, softhearted in a way that Keith hasn’t often found throughout his life. So, yes, he trusts that Lance had good intentions. He just doesn’t know that he trusts himself around Lance, when his own emotions are such a muddled slurry of feelings. “It’s really pretty. Beautiful view of the ocean. It’s where I go on my lunch breaks sometimes, or when I’m having an off day, it’s like my happy place. Well, closest thing to it, next to Varadero. What do you say?”

“Alright.” Keith answers, throwing his hands up in a show of defeat, like Lance has beaten him down and forced him into it. In reality, he’s just glad to be out of the dingy bar, far away from Lotor’s hungry gaze that hadn’t even been directed his way. This is much better, he feels like he can breathe again.

The drive is altogether a pleasant one. They stop along the way for snacks, Keith’s light buzz fades more as time goes on, and Lance rambles nervously about anything and everything the whole way there like he can’t stand the thought of silence alongside Keith. Strangely, it’s more endearing than it is annoying, and Keith finds he quite likes hearing about all of Lance’s family back home. He figures he’ll even know all of their names by the time they come to visit for the holidays.

It’s not until all of Lance’s incessant chatter ends that problems arise. A problem in the form of Lance reaching over to turn the radio up, making an audible sound of excitement about the catchy pop song filtering through his scratchy speakers. And then he’s… he’s singing along to it, bright and bold, indifferent to his audience on the other side of the vehicle. Keith is left reeling, as Lance sings the song effortlessly, hitting every note. He’s unfairly good at it, all things considered.

Keith doesn’t say a word. Partly because he knows what a damning word it’d have to be in reaction to that, but mostly because he doesn’t dare interrupt Lance before he’s finished and miss a second of his front row seat to the performance. No, it isn’t until the song ends that Lance glances quickly over at him again, then back to the road. 

Slowly, a devious little smile begins to curl at the corners of his lips, and Keith sighs. Of course he _knows_ that he’s good at it, shithead. 

“What?”

“Should’ve known you were the type to sing along to the radio.” Keith comments, but it doesn’t sound annoyed as much as fond. Lance grins harder at him in response, and that’s the first sign that he’s being as transparent as he feels right now. “Sometimes, I’m glad things didn’t work out between us. You’re _so_ not my type.”

“What _is_ your type then? You’re telling me you _don’t_ have a thing for gorgeous boys with beautiful singing voices, with alluring accents and voluptuous curves? Humble, too, don’t forget my humbleness.”

“Hmm, maybe you’re _too_ humble for my taste. I like my men a little more cocky, I think.” 

“You want cock? I’ve _got_ cock. More cock than I know what to do with, frankly.” Lance chatters on without thought for what he’s saying and now it’s beyond Keith to keep from smiling. Nevermind that, he also can’t help but laugh, a deeply-amused little chuckle at Lance’s antics. Lance falls silent abruptly then, giving a shaky breath like he’s been awed out of it. “I always feel so accomplished when I make you laugh. It seems so rare to see you without a scowl.”

“Shut-up. Stop flirting with me. Go back to singing along to the radio, even that was preferable to whatever this is.”

“You just said what it was. Flirting.” Lance insists. “You’re flirting back, for the record. It’s not as one-sided as you’d have me believe.”

“Whatever.” 

“Whatever, he says.” Lance parrots, in that endearing way he does, like he’s trying to make a point to an audience that just isn’t there. Keith fights back his smile with teeth and claw, manages to feign indifference by a hair’s breadth. It’s getting harder and harder not to throw caution to the wind and embrace how natural this thing between him and Lance feels. 

He knows the moment they arrive. It definitely has the very distinct feeling of a place people go to hook-up in the back of their car. He’s pretty sure he even sees an abandoned car in the back corner of the parking lot. But, his mind is quick to leave it alone, because the view in front of their car is far too great to ignore. Blue ocean spanning for as far as the eye can see.

Keith swallows hard.

“Come on, it’s better if you get out and head down to the look-off on the walking trail. That’s where you get the best view.” Lance informs him, climbing out of the car. Though the awe of it has yet to wear off fully, Keith forces himself to follow after, trusting that Lance is telling him the truth. He follows the younger boy down a walking trail, mindful of the dirt path in the dark, letting Lance’s quiet mumbling lead the way to where they were headed. They turn off the beaten path then, onto a look-off along the cliffside. Immediately, the breath is stolen from Keith’s lungs.

It really is beautiful. Maybe the most beautiful place he’s been, though it’s terribly dark outside right now and he can’t be absolutely sure. Still, it’s hard to imagine anything prettier than this, as he looks out over the water and watches the moonlight ripple in the water’s reflection.

“Why didn’t you offer to take me here during the day?!” Keith gasps, reaching out blindly and landing a playful punch to Lance’s arm. He leans away from it, giggling as it lands with a dull thud anyway. 

“I don’t know. I didn’t think you’d go for it.” Lance chuckles, but there’s a hint of strain behind it. It’s not his real laugh, the one that’s effortless in how it reverberates in his chest, deep and pleased. Keith has no choice but to tear his gaze away from the shining surface of the water, looking to Lance instead in search of context. “It’s one thing tagging along on your morning jogs and desperately begging for attention, another thing entirely to ask you out for a romantic walk together. That sounds like date territory.”

And, well, he’s not terribly wrong. Even if Lance had offered to take him here before now, he likely would have said no, too caught up in the implications and the unspoken to enjoy the offer for what it was.

“You never know, I might have said yes.”

“Don’t tease me, Keith.” Lance scolds him, but it’s gentle, playful again. Keith grins at him, steps into his space and leans into his side.

\--

As much as Lance is coming to love spending time with Keith, there’s something irreplaceable about his days where he gets to be alone for hours on end. It was his normal, during a time not too long ago before he’d acquired a roommate, and it’s still where he feels most himself. He just, well, has to miss Keith the entire time now. More often than not, he finds himself texting Keith all day with annoying anecdotes and updates, and every now and then Keith actually graces him with a _response_.

Anyway, maybe it’s a bit unorthodox, that Lance finds himself clad in thin lace lingerie, jerking himself off through the material in front of the camera… all while eyeing his phone on the corner of his bed waiting for Keith to respond to his latest and greatest meme. 

He’s not sure when things got to this point, that every area of his life just feels a little empty without Keith’s dry humor and unimpressed scowls whenever Lance cracks a characteristic bad joke right back.

Even while he’s working and getting paid to get _other people_ off, Keith is the only one on his mind. It’s more than a little bit distracting most days, makes it hard to focus on the task at hand, when he’s busy drowning in his feelings. And then on days when Lance had a run-in with early morning Keith, freshly-showered and half-dressed, well... then it makes his job _damn_ easy. He’s never had masturbation fuel quite like this and maybe he should feel guilty about that, but he doesn’t have it in him, he’s always been a bit shameless about sex.

What? It’s natural, he’s not hurting anyone, except maybe himself by getting his hopes up and ever believing something more might come of what they have.

Though…

Look, yes, Keith did say that day in the mall that there was no chance of them ever getting together, that he wasn’t interested in pursuing anything like that at all, let alone with Lance. But then that night at the bar, the boundaries had been pushed, the lines blurred… and ever since… things have been different.

Lance isn’t gonna dare to say that they’re home free now, that it’s only a matter of time. They have a ways to go yet and Lance is gonna have to put the work in to convince Keith that he’s worth a try. All he’s saying is that Keith seems more open to it now, more open to Lance as a whole. And, they’ve sort-of been flirting, even after that night at the party, even after they’d sobered up… it was almost like they were at a point where they were both willing to admit and acknowledge their attraction to each other, but to _do_ anything about it would still be a bigger hurdle yet.

Anyway, after spending the day filming content for his blog and then putting his clothes back on, Lance gets himself comfortable on the couch and waits. It won’t be long now until Keith is back. They’ll decide how to spend their evening from there.

The sound of the front door closing is the only warning Lance ever gets. Moments later, the full-bodied weight of a hundred pound dog is launching onto his stomach, knocking the wind out of him in a way he couldn’t have hoped to brace himself for. He groans, weakly shoving at the massive beast, intermittent giggles breaking their way through even as he struggles to draw a breath.

Eventually, Kosmo relents, or rather Keith comes to his rescue and calls the dog back over to him. 

The moment Lance catches his breath and wipes his saliva-slicked hair back from his face, he rolls over onto his stomach and perches his chin on the armrest. From this position, he has a clear view of the front door, where Keith is clumsily stripping his clothes off. Lance smirks to himself, shaking his head fondly. Since the very beginning of summer, this had become a normal tradition of sorts, with Keith running as hot-blooded as he does, he just isn’t tolerating the hot temperatures of Cali.

Lance, on the other hand, had grown up in warmer climates, whether it be Cuba or Cali for the past decade, it’s all a far stretch from the midwest temps Keith had been raised in.

“You’re home early.” Lance calls, a lazy and relaxed drawl, like he’s perfectly comfortable stretched out across the couch. Keith, on the other hand, is all but ripping his hair out in his rush to get it tied back from his face. He’s stripped down to his boxers now, as he stumbles into the room, headed straight for the couch Lance is relaxing on (fully dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, because he’s not a _heathen_ ).

“It’s so fucking hot, my skin’s melting off.” Keith groans, collapsing on top of his feet. Lance grumbles, pulling them free and curling up at the opposite end of the couch. Keith doubles over near immediately, burying his face into his hands. “I have the worst migraine. I couldn’t concentrate on tattooing at all, the buzz of the gun felt like it was tattooing my fucking brain.”

“You want a popsicle?”

“ _Please_.” Keith begs raggedly, like he’s asking for Lance to spare his life rather than supply him with frozen groceries. Lance snickers, stretching out to the mini fridge he’s set up next to the couch. One might say he’s lazy, but in the summer it’s important to conserve your energy however you can.

He tosses the popsicle to Keith, watches with a sympathetic smile as he immediately presses it to his forehead, leeching the cold out of it. Meanwhile, Lance rips open his own treat, presses the pink tip to his pursed lips in what could be mistaken as a seductive gesture (but of course isn’t intentioned as one, given that he’s _still not a heathen_ ).

“I take it you’re still struggling to adjust to the L.A heat? Over a year later?”

“I’m never gonna get used to it, it’s like living in an oven.” Keith rasps, tearing open his food and biting off half of it in one go. Lance flinches, gaze flickering down to his own popsicle, lovingly cradled against his tongue. Hopefully that isn’t meant to be interpreted as a seductive gesture or else Lance has some real concerns about Keith in the bedroom. “Please tell me the repair person came today about the A.C, I paid him in advance.”

“Sorry, dude.” Lance shrugs.

“Fuck. It’s so hot, I’m gonna die.”

“I know.”

“Well, at least I won’t have to pay for my cremation.” 

“Ha. You’re funny.”

“Thanks, you can write that praise on my gravestone.”

“I’ll let you in on a secret.” Lance offers, reaching his feet down to poke at Keith’s side. “On days like today? You don’t do anything. Don’t even attempt to. Just lay back and roast for a while. I’ve set up the couch as a cooldown station, complete with a stocked mini fridge and like seven fans pointed at it. You’re welcome. I’ll accept repayment in the form of more generous contributions to my wardrobe.”

“Shut-up.” Keith grunts, but then he’s swatting Lance’s feet away and shrinking down, until he’s slouched against the back of the couch to an extent that looks uncomfortable. “Wanna watch something?”

“Is the something a shitty documentary again?” Lance guesses. Keith gives him a look that answers his question outright. “Ugh, fine, but next time I’m picking. You have the worst taste of all time.”

And that’s how they find themselves for the rest of the night, until the sun has long set and it’s slowly cooling to a more tolerable temperature within their house. They’ve watched through five episodes of Keith’s documentary and Lance still hasn’t had the chance to pick the show, so he’s been growing predictably more irritated as time passes. Meanwhile, Keith is completely invested in the screen, pays Lance’s fidgeting no mind, no matter how he tries to demand attention to appease his bored mind.

In the span of the most recent episode, Lance made them dinner, replied to all of his messages (there were a lot of those, thanks to the video teaser he’d posted earlier), organized all of his albums on his phone, read through half a fashion magazine, and in a desperate bid for distraction he’d recited the alphabet in his head two and a half times. Then, inevitably, he grew bored and restless again.

And that’s how he finds himself draped out across Keith’s lap, then kicked to the ground by his feet, and then settled between his widespread thighs with his legs folded up underneath himself. It’s not the most casual position to be sitting in, but Keith is too engrossed in his show to really be questioning it, and Lance has just about died and gone to heaven being caged in by those muscular hairy thighs, so… he really can’t find it within himself to justify moving.

Besides, a bored Lance is a horny Lance, this is common knowledge. And his horny hindbrain can’t think of a single place he’d rather be than kneeling between Keith’s legs, even if he’s regrettably facing the wrong direction and pretending to be invested in the television screen rather than the man behind him.

He finds himself squirming after a while. He’s shifting around, resting his head on Keith’s knee, trailing his fingers across the dark hair decorating Keith’s calves, tugging apart the laces of his sneakers only to re-tie them moments later. For the most part, Keith is decent about it, only swatting or kicking Lance’s hand when he does something particularly ticklish.

It’s not that he’s trying to look, just so we’re all on the same page here. Lance is a lot of things, a pervert perhaps one of them, but he isn’t the type of person to disrespect a person’s privacy and ability to consent to who does and doesn’t get to see their body. Hell, as a sex worker, that’s something he’s hugely passionate about, after experiencing people pirating his videos and redistributing them for free.

It just happens the way it happens. Lance turns to look up at Keith, probably to make some stupid comment about the bearded old dude who believes in Big Foot on the screen, and then abruptly his mind short circuits. At some point, Keith has slouched further, spread his legs more, and the terrible state of his posture mixed with his hideously baggy boxer shorts…

Lance doesn’t see anything! He doesn’t have fucking _night vision_ , okay? He doesn’t see a dick, or even the _outline_ of a dick. And what he does end up seeing could very well be a trick of the mind, a hopeful illusion, a byproduct of the terrible lighting of the room. But, well, he thinks he sees… a glint of light reflecting from the tv screen, something metallic lighting up and flickering for just a fraction of a second, before he gets his act together and tears his gaze away before Keith notices him staring up his fucking underwear like a disgusting creep.

Lance whips around in the spot, plops his ass firmly back down against the ground, and trains his eyes to the screen in front of him. He goes still. Very still. Still enough that Keith kicks at his side, no doubt worried about him and what a stark contrast it is to his fidgeting from before. But Lance can’t bring himself to move, not when his mind is moving at a hundred miles per hour to accommodate for his body’s stillness.

Does Keith have a… no, no of course not. Surely not, right? He really doesn’t seem the type. Of course, he didn’t seem like the type to be interested in a friends with benefits relationship either. And he _is_ in the tattoo and piercing community, it’s a huge part of his life. He has a few piercings too, like his tongue and his eyebrow and his septum and-

And apparently his cock.

_No, bad Lance, don’t think about it. Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about-_

“Hey, Keith, do you pierce people too or just tattoos?” Lance blurts, like an idiot.

The question hangs in the air for a moment and Lance wonders if Keith is going to bless him by ignoring it altogether, too invested in his show to acknowledge the fact Lance has spoken. But he’s not that lucky, and instead Keith gives a gravely sort-of hum in the back of his throat, considering.

“I’ve done a bit of both while I was training, but professionally I only tattoo. Figured it made more sense to focus all my energy on one or the other, so I could hone my skill faster. Tattoos were always my passion, so it was just the natural conclusion.” Keith explains, and Lance can’t even feel excited about how much more talkative he gets when he talks about his work, his passion, because his thoughts are too far down the gutter to truly appreciate it. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. There’s more… creative freedom. Obviously, with piercings there’s some pretty sick jewelry out there now, but I don’t know. It’s not the same as designing a piece of art from start to finish and seeing the customer’s reaction.” Keith explains, shifting into a more comfortable position behind Lance, bumping his knee against Lance’s shoulder in the process. Lance swallows hard, tries to will himself to stop thinking about it, at least until he’s not at risk of getting hard where he sits. What an utterly inconvenient time for a long-forgotten kink of his to resurface. “Why are you asking, anyway? You’ve never shown any interest before. You thinking of getting some work done?”

“Maybe.” Lance croaks out. Slowly, he turns, determinedly keeping his eyes above the waistline. He meets Keith’s gaze directly, smiles sweetly up at him as if that can make up for the nature of his current thoughts. “Do I get the friends and family discount? I don’t know if I can afford you, big shot.”

“Might be able to work something out.”

“Yeah? Seriously?” Lance says, genuine surprise showing in his voice. In truth, he hadn’t actually considered getting work done by Keith until this very moment. He’d never been the tattoo type, his mother would likely beat his ass for even considering. Though he admired them from afar and loved the idea of them, he’d never considered getting any work done himself. But the idea of having Keith’s art on his body forever is enough to make him reconsider, and he’s pretty sure it doesn’t even have anything to do with his crush on the guy. His work is just _that_ impressive, it would be an honor.

“Mm, we’ll talk about it when my brain doesn’t feel like soup.” Keith nods, relaxing back into the cushions, eyes falling closed for a moment. And without anywhere else to look, Lance can’t help the way his gaze drops, staring at his lap like it holds the secrets of the universe. Granted, the position change means he can’t see anything at all now, just the vaguest of outlines through black fabric. He licks his lips all the same though, like a dog licking their chops at the sight of a bone. Fuck. 

If it were anything and anyone else, Lance wouldn’t be struggling like this to get his thoughts under control. Despite what his dirty sense of humor and his history of promiscuity would have you believe, Lance doesn’t think with his cock, he’s usually a perfectly reasonable guy. It’s just, well, this is _Keith_ we’re talking about, arguably the hottest guy he’s ever been faced with, with tattoos and leather jackets and a fucking mullet and a dog and-

And on top of _who_ it is…. there’s the matter of _what_ it is. 

A few years back, when Lance was barely just starting out with his blog, before he had a long list of regular customers and back when he’d known everyone on a name or username basis… there was this guy. He was one of Lance’s very first regular customers, so he’d stood out in the crowd even more back in those days, had Lance really taking notice of him and making an effort to keep him as happy as possible with the content he was paying for.

It started out with just buying pre-made videos, then eventually sexting, and then custom videos made just for him. Even today, he still requests them from time to time, once a month if Lance is lucky. He pays a pretty penny for them too, never even complains when Lance says he’s raised his prices from the last time, just takes it in stride and even sends him tips for his trouble. 

And when the sexting stage came about, Lance started getting pictures back, instead of just sending them and receiving money for his efforts. The dude had a nice dick to begin with, alright? There was no denying that much. Lance even got off to it a couple times. But that was before the game changed, before the fateful day that Redwolf19 had the audacity to send him a dick pic like usual, only now with a dainty little metal barbel nestled just under the ridge of his cockhead. Ever since, Lance has been hopelessly and pathetically, addicted to the stranger’s cock.

He’s never slept with a guy with a dick piercing, alright? Even after discovering that it’s apparently a kink of his, it hasn’t been easy to locate someone willing to let him try. It’s not like he’s gonna post a Craigslist ad, and just stating plainly on Grindr that he’s looking for a pierced cock to mess around with seems like a recipe for starting a sketchy relationship. And so he’s been forced to live with his fantasies and the rare photo that Redwolf19 sends his way.

He’s definitely a creepy old rich white guy, no doubt about it, but Lance likes his money and his cock and so, by extension, he’s sorta got a soft spot for him as a whole. But if Keith were to have a dick piercing… well, fuck, that would change everything, wouldn’t it? Well, not everything, considering that Lance already wants to sleep with him, but it’d certainly make him want it even more. The evidence of such being the way he’s already getting hard in his shorts just thinking about it.

He shifts back, tries to take some of the pressure off his rapidly-hardening cock.

“Lance, come on, stop fidgeting.” Keith snaps at him, starting to sound genuinely annoyed now.

“Sorry.” He offers sheepishly, his cheeks aflame as he thinks about his reason for his fidgeting. He’s not sure he can stop now, his cock quickly reaching the point of no return, where only a cold shower will be able to keep him from indulging himself. Still, Keith doesn’t need to know that, will never know that if Lance can help it. “Cursed with ADHD, nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know it’s out of your control. Sorry.” Keith sighs, relaxing once again. And that would be fine, they could have left it like that and sat through the rest of the episode, then gone their separate ways. A little bit of squirming around would be acceptable, Keith wouldn’t hold it against him. But then Lance had to go and… instigate things unnecessarily. As is the horny Lance way.

“I’d let him _raw me_ , I love me a silver fox daddy.” Lance blurts, nodding to the old guy that believes in Big Foot where he’s on screen, donning his white lab coat like he’s a doctor and not a crazed conspiracy theorist. From behind him, Keith makes a distinctly pained noise, his next breath a strangled one like he’s forgotten exactly how to inhale. And Lance laughs, light and airy, thinking he’s successfully lightened the mood and made a joke out of his struggle and-

And then it all goes to shit when Keith’s hand settles in his hair, giving it a harsh reprimanding tug.

“For fuck’s sake, Lance, _behave_.”

“ _Fuck_.” Lance moans. Honest to god, on his abuela’s grave, moans. Like a whore (which, he is, to an extent, so that part isn’t surprising as much as the fact that he’s moaning over his friend pulling his fucking hair). A part of him had always known while he was compiling all these bizarrely specific kinks that someday it would come back to bite him in the ass, in the non-sexy way, and here it is.

The moan itself isn’t particularly loud, but it is unmistakably sexual in nature, oozing lust as it slips past Lance’s lips unbidden. It’s not like anyone can blame him though, when the only situations anyone has ever dared to try and touch his perfectly-styled hair he’s so protective over have been sexual situations, so he’s pretty much pavlov’d into associating it with sex to begin with. Pair it with the fact that it’s Keith and he’s already hard to begin with… god, he feels it down the length of his spine, feels it to the tip of his cock as it twitches and leaks pre-cum through his underwear. Fuck.

And Keith, oh, poor Keith. He goes completely still, fingers still settled in Lance’s hair, not even daring to try and move them again. Feeling embarrassed down to his core, Lance shifts away from his hand, and Keith abruptly withdraws it like he’s been burned. Which leaves Lance to do damage control and because of who he is as a person, he has no idea what to do other than make a joke out of it.

He turns, giving Keith his widest and most sleazy grin. Keith is staring back at him like he’s seen a ghost for now, but Lance hopes to make him laugh at least as he reaches up and gives a salute. “Yes, Sir. I hear you _loud and clear_. I will be behaving from here on out, Sir.”

A long beat of silence follows.

“Do you just exist in a state of perpetual horniness?” Keith says finally, breaching the silence.

“More or less.” Lance admits, reaching down to readjust himself because at this point there’s nothing to gain from hiding it. Keith isn’t stupid. Besides, Keith has seen him in a similar state before. Still, he feels flushed and nervous in front of Keith, who still hasn’t taken his eyes off of him. His expression is unreadable too, it makes it hard to read whether it’s judgment or something very different reflected in those dark eyes. “What? I have to keep myself busy somehow when you insist on watching the most boring shit known to man. That old guy with the beard is the only thing this has going for it.”

“Ugh, god, get up here on the couch. You’re insatiable.” Keith sighs, but he doesn’t sound annoyed as much as amused, and it has Lance giving a helpless little shrug. He couldn’t chase the smile from his face even if he was trying to, as he clambers back onto the couch and leans into Keith’s side. And Keith doesn’t even protest, just drops an arm around his shoulders and pulls him in.

“Insatiable, huh? That’s an awfully weird way of saying irresistible.”

“Shut-up, Lance, and watch the damn show.”

And with that, Lance relaxes back against the base of the couch, a smile still ghosting his lips. He’s glad that Keith is being so chill about this, he can feel their dynamic shifting as he sits there watching the final few minutes of the episode. Does this mean flirting is on the table? If Keith will react with fond exasperation rather than genuine discomfort? Well, only one way to find out.

\--

On a seemingly normal day at work, Keith finds himself guzzling down water so fast he almost chokes, as he sits in his stool and waits for his last client of the day to arrive. A client with startling ocean blue eyes, and beautiful smooth tan skin, and chestnut brown hair that wisps across his face like he’s been standing in a gentle breeze (but in reality, has spent an hour agonizing over applying product to it each morning, Keith would know, considering they share a fucking bathroom).

How is it that he finds himself tattooing Lance? Well, it’s a long story. 

Actually, a pathetically short story.

That night that they were watching conspiracy shows together and Lance asked him about his work, Keith had foolishly offered, and though that would be it. It would have been too, considering Lance never brought it up again, never brought up that night as a whole again as if it was a deep dark secret between the two of them. Anyway, Lance would have left it in the past, and it would have been fine.

It was Keith’s fault it came up again, it’s Keith’s fault he finds himself buzzing with nerves over doing a tattoo for the first time in years now. He just couldn’t stop thinking about it, about how nice a tattoo would look against Lance’s skin, about how he could encompass a personality so big and bold in an art piece in a way that would maybe begin to do it justice. 

It started out as a rough sketch one night when he came home from work and found himself feeling too restless to sleep. Then it became a fully colored and rendered drawing, with proper lineart and proper shading, something with agonizing detail that he’d feel comfortable presenting to a paid client. And so, though he’d denied it the entire process through, he was left with no choice but to admit it when he was staring the finished product in the face: he had designed a tattoo for Lance.

Lance hadn’t even asked him to! That’s the worst part. So now, if Keith ever wanted the opportunity to bring this art piece to life in the way it deserved, he had to be the one to approach Lance and beg to use his body as a permanent canvas. Somewhere along the way, his subconscious had grown quite fond of the idea too, so simply tucking it away in a folder to never be seen again was hardly an option. 

He ended up bringing it up over dinner one night. He tested the waters by asking Lance about his tattoo preferences, then eventually it led into Lance growing suspicious and asking him what all the questions were about… at which point Keith bit the bullet and slid the drawing across the table. He’d held his breath for twenty seconds straight while Lance looked it over, familiarizing himself with all the details.

Everything about it was dedicated to Lance, from the delicate lines to the bold shades of blue. Despite starting as abstract watercolor, eventually it’d taken shape and Keith had seen something in the colors, had reeled the idea into a shark. It just so happened that sharks were Lance’s favorite animal, something that Keith had learnt not too long after moving in with him.

Lance had _loved it_ and somehow that’d been the most surprising thing about all of this.

So here he sits, a couple weeks later, waiting for their appointment. It’s not too big of a project, he figures he’ll be able to finish it in this one session.

“Keith, there’s someone here for you.” Ezor informs him, poking her head around the corner to smile into the room at him. He looks up from his phone, then eagerly scrambles to his feet. It’s weird, the amount of nerves he’s feeling about this, like it’s his first time tattooing all over again. He just wants to be sure that it turns out perfect, the tattoo and the experience alike. He feels like he’s showing Lance an entirely new part of his life, and wants him to like it a childish amount. “His name isn’t written in the books for an appointment, but he said he knows you personally?”

“Yeah, I’m staying late. He’s a friend of mine.” Keith explains, tucking his phone into his pocket and moving to dart past her out of the room, to meet Lance out by the doors. But she stops him with a hand placed in the center of his chest, an eyebrow quirked with intrigue.

“A _friend_? That’s new for you. Who is this guy?”

“My roommate, actually, if you must know.” Keith tells her, patience already waning after waiting on Lance so long. He stands taller, tries to peer over her shoulder into the waiting room. She just mirrors him, blocking his view, her eyes wide as saucers and completely invested. He sighs hard. “Please tell me you haven’t been talking to Shiro. If he’s been spreading lies about me, I swear I’ll-”

“Oh, Keith, I don’t need to talk to anyone to get answers, not when you’re blushing like a sinner in church. I think it’s _pretty_ obvious.” Ezor counters, grinning devilishly. Keith is half-tempted to sidecheck her out of the way and continue past, but he reigns himself in just in time. She turns on her heel, gives him a gentle pat on the cheek as she goes. “Just try to keep your linework _straight_ , samurai.”

“Fuck off.”

“Yeah, yeah, act as tough as you want, you can’t hide the heart-eyes.” Ezor waves him off dismissively, and he charges past her toward the waiting room, uncaring of how his enthusiasm is misinterpreted. It only takes a second to spot Lance, he stands out like a sore thumb in the middle of the waiting room, wearing baby blue satin against checkered floor tiles and red leather seats. Keith smiles the moment their eyes meet across the room, hurrying his pace as Lance rises to his feet to meet him.

“Hey. I brought you dinner.” Lance tells him right off the bat, proudly picking up a plastic bag from the seat next to him. Given it’s being shoved in his direction rather unceremoniously, Keith has no choice but to accept it, peering curiously inside the bag. His smile only widens at what he sees.

“Oh.” He laughs. “You didn’t need to.”

“Nah, but I was super early leaving the house, nerves and all that. I needed something to do to fill the time and I ended up at that Chinese place we tried last week. It’s as good as it was last time.”

“You’re nervous?” Keith asks, genuine concern showing in his voice. He gestures for Lance to follow him, to walk as they talk, and he leads him through the shop toward his personal station. Lance gets with the picture immediately, following after him and offering a parting wave to the cute girl behind the front desk. Keith resists the urge to roll his eyes at the coy way Ezor waves back, demon in an angel’s skin that she is.

“A little.” Lance answers belatedly, the moment they’ve turned the corner and they’re out of anyone else’s line of sight. Keith closes the door to his room behind them, settling onto his stool and gesturing toward the bench for Lance. He settles on the very edge of it, looking entirely uncertain. It tugs on Keith’s heart strings a little, until he can’t resist standing up and moving to sit next to Lance instead, their knees knocking once they’re settled side-by-side.

Lance smiles brightly at him after that, leaning into him. “I know I’m in good hands, though.”

“Don’t… say it like that. Ugh.” Keith groans, ignoring him in favor of digging into his food. If Lance is going to try and flirt with him the entire time he’s doing the tattoo, then they’re gonna have a problem.

“Be gentle with me, it’s my first time.” Lance continues, bottom lip poking out into a pout, in a terribly unconvincing show of innocence. Keith gives him a sideways glare as he bites into an eggroll.

“I’ll stab you, I have a wide array of needles to choose from, don’t test me.” Keith warns, the moment he’s done chewing, when Lance still hasn’t stopped batting his eyelashes like some poor misunderstood virgin. Lance laughs at that, deep and throaty, and at the very least it gets him off the one track mind he’d been onto. 

To keep the ball rolling, Keith jumps up and walks over to his work station, returning with his latest update to their design. “I’ve tweaked a couple small things since you last saw it, wanna look it over while I finish eating this?”

“Sure thing.” Lance agrees, gently accepting it from his hands and immediately getting to work scouring over it. Surprisingly, he actually hasn’t been particularly picky about the process. He puts a lot of faith in Keith, seems generally happy with almost every edit Keith makes. And as Keith munches his way through his meal, he gets the feeling that this will be no exception, as Lance’s eyes light up with every subtle change he notices.

“Thoughts?” Keith asks eventually, when he can’t contain his curiosity anymore.

“Thoughts? Shit, Keith, I’ve been rendered _thoughtless_.” Lance replies, turning to him with a contagious sort-of grin, flushed and full of excitement. Keith mirrors it before he can stop himself. “I can’t believe I’m gonna get to have something this pretty on my body forever. It’s an honor.”

“Be serious.”

“I am!” Lance insists. “You’re really good at what you do.”

“Well, thanks.”

“Are you sure I don’t have to pay you? Surely there’s something you’ll accept?” Lance suggests, not for the first time, very plainly guilty about accepting Keith’s offer. He’d offered it though, it wasn’t like Lance had convinced him to in any way at all. He wants this as much, or possibly more, than Lance himself does. He’s passionate about this piece, wants to see it brought to life. But Lance doesn’t seem to understand that, as he leans back and pointedly spreads his legs that slightest bit wider. “Perhaps I can bargain with my slutty, slutty bod-”

“That’s enough out of you.” Keith interrupts, harshly. He gets to his feet, tosses his empty food containers out, and goes about washing his hands. He’d already gone through all of the sanitation steps earlier for his tools, now it was only a matter of making sure both he and Lance were. He turns to Lance, realizes belatedly what he has to ask of him next anyway. “This may be counterproductive, but take your shirt off.”

“I thought you’d _never_ ask.”

“My coworkers are in the room over, you animal.” Keith grumbles. “This is my job. Not a porn shoot.”

“Could be, the only thing missing is a camera.” Lance argues, then his train of thought quickly changes and he hardly takes a breather before the next comment. “How long do you reckon this’ll take?”

“Three hours, maybe four.” Keith answers, grabbing for his gun now that he’s properly gloved. “Think you can sit still for that long? You’ll need to lay on your stomach.”

“It’ll be a struggle, I’m sure.” Lance answers and when Keith looks up again, he’s already rolled over onto his stomach and made himself comfortable, head resting atop his folded arms. But, it’s only then that Keith notices that his red shorts aren’t just any shorts, but rather a painstakingly familiar pair that’s been haunting his dreams for months. 

“Did you _have to_ wear these?” Keith asks, and it’s clear what he’s talking about without any further elaboration, that much is clear in the way Lance lifts his hips from the table and waves them pointedly back and forth. Keith looks skyward, begging a god he doesn’t believe him to spare him this unique form of torture. He sees how he made all those mistakes that first night he met Lance, given he was wearing these fucking _booty shorts_ at the time, half his ass on bare and proud display beneath their hem.

“For old time’s sake.” Lance answers, looking over his shoulder to wink at him. “Are they distracting?”

“Head down. Mouth shut.” Keith answers bluntly, not entertaining the flirting at all. 

“You sound just like my ex boyfriend.”

Keith does not read the bold white text printed across the back of the shorts where they’re stretched over Lance’s ass. Instead, he turns his focus back to his job, scooting closer to rub the sanitizer across Lance’s lower back. Of course he’d wanted it as a tramp stamp, it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise and yet it did when he’d first told Keith what he wanted. It could be worse though, Keith could be stuck tattooing his actual ass, forced to concentrate the entire time.

“Alright, it’s going to be uncomfortable, but it shouldn’t be agonizing or even really painful. It should feel similar to a cat scratch against your lower back. Let me know if you need a breather.” Keith informs him, as he reaches for the gun. Lance tenses visibly, and Keith feels another pang of sympathy go through him, reminded again that Lance had never intended to get tattoos in his life until Keith came along and put the idea into his head. This really isn’t his scene. “Ready?”

“Yeah. I trust you. It’ll be worth it in the end.” Lance insists, and it softens Keith’s expression even further, though he quickly ends up wiping it clean. He doesn’t start yet, even though he normally wouldn’t hesitate so much with any other client. He feels like he has to comfort Lance more, make sure he’s completely comfortable before continuing.

“You never know, you might end up liking it.”

“Are you accusing me of being a masochist?” 

“No, but there’s a reason most people don’t stop with just one tattoo.” Keith ignores the flirty undertone to Lance’s words, decides he’s not ready to unpack exactly what that means. He doesn’t want to know Lance’s kinks anymore than he already does, it’ll only make his life harder. “At least for me, it’s sort-of a method of releasing pent-up frustration or emotions. It’s how I cope with things. It’s grounding, I guess.”

“Huh.” Lance breathes. “And here I thought you were above having emotions.”

“You good?”

“I’m good, Keith. Let’s do this.” Lance sounds more confident about it this time, so Keith doesn’t hesitate to lower his foot onto the pedal and press the gun to Lance’s skin. The initial flinch is noticeable, but then Lance seems to relax into it, as Keith starts to follow the stencil outline he’d applied moments before. From that point on, Keith loses himself to the task, finds his nerves fading away and replaced with a single minded determination to see it through.

It ends up taking a little bit longer than expected to get the details just right. 

They’re over four hours into it and somehow Lance has been relatively still the entire time, and literally completely silent all the way through. A couple times, Keith had to stop to ask him if he was okay, but he always answered right away with reassurance… so there was no reason not to go back to what he was doing in the end. He could only hope that Lance wasn’t lying to him, trying to appear tough. He hates when people pass out or get sick on the table, it’s only happened to him a couple times but it’s never fun at all. Though, Lance doesn’t seem particularly tense or uncomfortable, if anything he seems overly lax.

Keith grips his hip for support as he grinds through the last of the shading, watches the way Lance’s entire body shudders against the onslaught of sensation. He second-guesses himself again, eases off the pedal and clears his throat. Slowly, Lance lifts his head from the pillow, blinking blearily up at him.

He looks a little out of it, pupils blown wide, hair completely flattened to one side of his head after laying on it for so long. Keith smiles at him.

“I’m impressed.” He offers. “You’re staying very still for me, I didn’t expect you to be this good about it.”

“Hm.” Lance hums, moving to slump back down into his arms. Keith clears his throat again, determined to get more than a one-word answer out of him this time. There’s no harm in stopping here and booking another session, though it’d be more of a nuisance than anything with how close they are to finishing, he isn’t going to push Lance past his comfort zone.

“You okay? You’re not gonna pass out on me, are you?”

“N-No, I’m fine.” Lance stutters out then, and his voice sounds impossibly small, faraway almost. Keith isn’t sure whether to be reassured or not. Lance still isn’t acting like his usual self, loud and boisterous, eager to get a rise out of Keith. He’s uncharacteristically meek and shy about it, barely making or holding eye contact at all. “It isn’t as bad as I thought it would be, actually.”

“Happy to hear it.” Keith offers, but he’s still not convinced. He gently pats at the skin next to Lance’s tattoo, wiping away the smudges of ink streaked there. He feels the way a shiver wracks Lance’s entire frame at that, from head to toes, and though he could be mistaken… the little gasp that slips past his lips in response is certainly suspicious. Keith smirks to himself, biting his lip as he starts to piece together exactly why Lance has been so unsettlingly still this entire time. “In the spirit of being professional, do you need to take a break? You can be honest with me.”

“Fuck off. Maybe you were more spot-on about the masochist thing than either of us could have predicted, whatever. No use being coy about it.” Lance grumbles back at him, but there’s something different about it when he’s completely shirtless and pliant beneath Keith, and the flush that spreads across all of that bare skin is perfectly visible. Keith grins harder. 

“If it makes you feel any better, you’re not the first person I’ve tattooed that found it... arousing.”

“Don’t fucking say arousing, oh my god, shut-up.” Lance groans, very plainly miserable. At least for once in his life he’s finding it within himself to be bashful about it. “Just keep going and get it over with.”

“Wow, now you sound like _my_ ex-boyfriend.”

“Oh? Is that another thing we have in common? Shitty toxic exes?” 

“I guess it is.” Keith chuckles, leaning back in to get to work on the very final touches. It’s a little bit harder to concentrate now, knowing that Lance is turned on below him, enjoying his touch rather than loathing every second of it. Keith is nothing if not a professional though, so he manages to swallow those thoughts down and ignore them completely, prioritizing his work first and foremost. And Lance is good about it, surprisingly lacking any flirty comments whatsoever, instead going right back to silently gritting his teeth until it’s over for reasons that have nothing to do with the pain.

It doesn’t take much longer after that, half an hour at most, before Keith is gently cleaning the area up and then giving Lance a tap on the hip. It takes him a moment to stir, but eventually he’s clambering to his feet, legs shaky beneath himself after spending so long tense and out of use. But he makes his way to the mirror, turns around to peer over his shoulder and admire his new tattoo.

There’s nothing quite like the moment he’s finished, when his clients see their new tattoo for the first time and absolutely light up with excitement. Thankfully, Lance’s reaction doesn’t disappoint in the slightest, as he breaks out into a smile that’s downright contagious and turns to Keith with awed disbelief written all over his face.

“Keith, this is… I don’t even have words!” Lance gushes, reaching out and pulling him into a clumsy sideways hug. Keith tries to make sure his gloved hands don’t land on Lance’s outfit and risk smearing ink, and Lance makes a valiant effort to keep his crotch conveniently angled in the opposite direction, so it ends up being an altogether ineffective embrace, but they both lean into it anyway.

“You like it?”

“I love it. I love it so much, I can’t wait for it to heal so I can show it off to everyone I ever meet. You think I’m bad for wearing skimpy clothes now? I’m straight-up _never_ gonna wear a shirt again after this.”

“Oh god no, I’ve created a monster.”

\--

“Hunk! My man! What’s up?” Lance greets him warmly, excited to talk to his best friend after over a week without. It feels strange, given that they almost always make an effort to talk on the daily, but Hunk has always been busy between his job and his wife and his perfectly put-together adult life. And well, for once Lance isn’t constantly bugging him and badgering him for attention, now that he has the wonderful distraction that is Keith. Still, there’s something different about talking to his best friend, and he’s missed it all the same.

“Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to catch a movie later today?”

“Ugh, I’d love to, I would, but today doesn’t work for me. Tomorrow?” Lance offers, balancing his phone between his cheek and his shoulder. He’s in the process of feeding Kosmo, which is an ordeal in itself, given that Keith feeds him an obnoxious raw diet and can’t just drop a bowl full of dry kibble at his feet and call it a day. He says it’s healthier for him, will make him live longer. Lance isn’t sure when exactly he came to understand the specific ratios, how to prepare the meat in just the way that the dog liked it.

It’s just one of those things, like how he knows all of Keith’s favorite shows, and he knows what cereal to buy if he wants Keith to actually wait around in the mornings long enough to eat, and how he knows which articles of clothing are Keith’s favorite if he happens to have space in the washer to throw a couple of Keith’s things in when he’s doing laundry.

“Tomorrow works.” Hunk relents easily, always the furthest thing from difficult. “So… you have _plans_?”

He doesn’t even have to say it outright for Lance to know what he’s implying.

He groans in embarrassment, slumps down to lean over the kitchen island. Beside him, Keith is chowing down on his food so voraciously it’s hard to hear Hunk through his phone, so he makes his way to the living room instead and collapses across the couch.

“Shut-up.” Lance mutters, speaking under his breath. “We’re going _grocery shopping_ together.”

“Sickeningly domestic.” Hunk concludes, amusement clear as day in his tone. Lance rolls his eyes, slumps further back over the armrest, until he’s staring around the room upside-down. “Seriously, Lance, all you ever do anymore is hang out with Keith. It’s worse than when you have an actual new boyfriend. Now I know how you feel when I gush about spending time with Shay.”

“Don’t tell me you think he’s my _Shay_ , Hunk, I’ve got it bad enough already.” 

“Oh? You’re to the point where you’re willing to admit you have feelings for him? This is news.”

“So many feelings, Hunk, so fucking many.” Lance sighs. “I think he feels the same, you know. We haven’t really talked about it, but things have definitely changed between us. He flirts back now.”

“Does he?” Hunk doesn’t sound convinced and Lance can’t help the indignant offended noise that slips past his lips, a scoff of sorts. “Sorry, somehow I can’t imagine Keith flirting, he doesn’t seem the type.”

“You’d be surprised.” He insists. “I think I’m going to make dinner tonight and try to win him over the old fashioned way, with good home cooking. He agreed to everything, seems eager about it. Only thing is, I don’t know if he knows it’s meant to be a date. I also don’t know if I _want_ him to know.”

“You’re serious about him, huh?”

“I think so.” It feels like less of a commitment than just saying yes outright would be, but the truth is Lance is utterly confident in his feelings for Keith. He’s never been so enamoured with anyone before, so invested in everything about them, so engaged in every word they speak and everything they do. He can’t even imagine feeling this way about anyone else now. “Wish me luck?”

“Of course.” Hunk promises. “Good luck, Lance, I hope it works out for you. I’d better be the first to hear if it does… or if it doesn’t, I’m here for you either way.”

“Thanks, dude.” Lance says, and he really means it, knowing that he has Hunk’s support always makes it easier to take risks. A smile graces his lips for a moment as he thinks about all the times Hunk has celebrated with him through dating successes or comforted him through failures. He really really really hopes that this time around will warrant a celebration. “Alright, I gotta go, Keith should be getting out of the shower by now. I’ll call you later.”

“Sounds good.” With that, Lance pulls his phone away from his face and ends the call. Keith’s presence is announced a moment later, not a moment too soon, when Kosmo jerks his head up and then takes off running to the other side of the room like a bat out of hell before his food is even finished. Lance watches him go with a smile on his face, wonders when exactly he got so attached to the damn dog. He can’t imagine his house without one now, it would be far too quiet.

“Talking to one of those many secret admirers of yours?” Keith asks as he walks into the room, shirtless with a towel draped over his head that he’s aggressively scrubbing around, drops of water still clinging to his exposed skin. Lance leans over the kitchen island, openly admiring without shame.

“Oh, always.” Lance answers, grinning devilishly as Keith comes to a stop in front of him. He can’t help the way his gaze traces across Keith’s tattoos appreciatively, despite seeing them a hundred times over he feels like there’s still countless details to notice. Keith shifts awkwardly under his stare, tossing his towel carelessly onto Lance’s head and earning a squawk. “Jerk!”

“I thought we were going somewhere? You gonna spend all day standing around staring at me?”

“If it were up to me, yes!” Lance insists, winding the towel into a whip and cracking it against Keith’s ass as he walks past. Keith curses under his breath, but otherwise doesn’t react as he goes about shuffling through the cupboards. Lance glares at his back, but it’s hard to hold onto the scowl when his gaze insists on following the long line of Keith’s spine. His jeans are hanging low on his frame, showing off those little dimpled spots in his lower back that Lance would like nothing more than to settle his thumbs into as he grips his hips. 

It’s the sound of a plastic bag crinkling that draws Lance’s attention back to what Keith is doing. And almost immediately, he launches forward and snatches Keith’s find out of his hands. “What do you think you’re doing trying to eat something now?! We’re going grocery shopping Keith, so I can make a _proper_ dinner. Would you really rather eat dry saltine crackers than my cooking?”

“How offended will you be if I say yes?” 

“Shut-up, you fuck.” Lance snaps at him, landing a flimsy hit to his shoulder as he shoves the crackers back up into their cupboard. He turns to Keith then, ignores the dirty look he’s being shot, instead leans even further into Keith’s space and bites his lip. He doesn’t miss the way Keith’s eyes widen, the way his gaze drops to Lance’s lips, uncertainty flashing. And then Lance is dancing away, to the other side of the kitchen, where he continues putting away all of Kosmo’s food supplies. “Go get a shirt on, you’re coming with me like it or not. Don’t think I forgot about that fruit comment the other day.”

“Why is it so controversial that I don’t have a favorite fruit!?”

“ _Everyone_ has a favorite fruit, Keith!” Lance insists, determining that Keith is going to be difficult for the foreseeable future. He heads to his own room, brings back one of his shirts and tosses it to Keith. Keith shrugs it on completely indifferently, as if it were his own shirt, like he would have walked out the door shirtless if Lance hadn’t bothered to go out of his way for him. “And for the record, it’s controversial because you followed it up by telling me you couldn’t remember the last time you _ate_ a fruit!”

“It’s not _that_ big of a deal.” 

“Not that big of a deal, he says.” Lance mutters angrily, turning away and going about sliding his feet into his shoes. He grabs his keys from the rack, then turns in the doorway to stare expectantly back at Keith, daring him to protest further. “Just wait until he gets diagnosed with _scurvy_ , see what he has to say then.”

“Whatever. It’s not so urgent that it warrants an emergency trip to the grocery store.” 

“You shut your mouth or I’m gonna make you eat a grapefruit.” Lance points in his direction threateningly, and Keith just grins harder in response. He leans back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest, hair falling in his eyes. There’s something blatantly mischievous about how he quirks an eyebrow, practically asking Lance to challenge him.

“You can’t _make me_ do anything.” And oh, those are fighting words if Lance has ever heard them.

“Is that so?” Lance counters, pacing across the room in five long strides. Then he’s standing in front of Keith, looming over him and exploiting their minimal height difference, hands landing heavily on his hips. It becomes immediately apparent that the intimidating tactics won’t work with Keith, given Lance hardly fits the part in his flowy floral shirt and flip flops. Forced to rethink his plan of attack, he acts on impulse and settles a hand on Keith’s chest.

That, that warrants a reaction. Keith tenses, gaze dropping between them, to his own chest where Lance has grabbed a fistful of his shirt. Slowly, his fingers uncurl, and he smooths one down the divot of Keith’s chest, tracing the lines between his defined muscles. The flimsy tank top from Lance’s wardrobe does very little to disguise them. Above him, he thinks he hears Keith swallow audibly, tense as he is. Lance grins, looking up at him through his lashes, lifting his head until they’re eye-to-eye again. “I would argue that I can be _very_ persuasive when I wanna be.”

“You’re gonna seduce me into eating a well-balanced diet?” Keith chuckles, and it’s mostly a joke, but there’s also no missing the undeniable tremor to his voice. Lance grins harder in answer.

“If I have to.” And Lance must sound just confident enough that Keith actually believes him, because the other boy relents with a heavy drawn-out sigh.

“Come on, let’s go.” He gently bumps his shoulder against Lance’s as he passes him, and before Lance realizes what he’s done, he’s watching as Keith climbs into the driver’s seat of _his_ car, having snatched his keys out of his hand. Lance sighs long and hard. In some ways, he’s glad they’re more comfortable around each other now. This is not one of those ways.

The grocery store is blessedly not all that busy when they get there. They park close to the doors, manage to get a cart without any trouble, and then they find themselves slowly strolling along the produce aisle. Lance is leaning over the cart handle for support, eyeing the shelves with interest. Keith, on the other hand, is trudging slowly behind, and Lance is at least seventy-five percent sure it isn’t because he’s staring at his ass in these cute shorts.

“This is so dumb.” Keith complains, not long later, as Lance lowers a bunch of bananas into the cart without a word. Lance glances up at him, a smile playing at his lips. Keith is kind-of cute when he’s being the whiny difficult one for a change. “I’m not going to eat any of this shit, I hope you know.”

“You will if I pack it in your lunches every day, out of sheer guilt about not eating something so lovingly and caringly prepared for you.” Lance counters, sticking his tongue out at him and throwing a wink in his direction for good measure. That gets Keith to shut up, though he still scowls something deep beneath that pretty pink blush of his. Lance shrugs, goes back to shopping.

For a couple minutes, everything is good. It’s not until he lowers a bag of peaches into the cart that Keith makes another audible sound of annoyance beside him. Lance glances back at him, rolling his neck and sighing contently at the satisfying way it cracks. Eventually, Keith just comes out and says it.

“Why do you pick the _grossest_ fruits?” 

“Put a fruit of your choice in the cart, seeing as you have complaints about all the ones I’ve been picking.” Lance suggests, gesturing to the whole of the store around them. Though he doesn’t look thrilled about it, Keith sulks off to another aisle and Lance continues his shopping in peace for a while. And if he gets a lot more lenient without Keith around, tosses things in the cart carefree and haphazard like he has all the money in the world to spend, well, no one’s there to call him out on it. 

Besides, he’s paying today. He really is! He has the money in his account, there’s no reason he shouldn’t, and he definitely wants to. Keith will probably try to stop him, but Lance is determined. Mostly. I mean, within reason, it’s not like he’s excited to spend his money. And if Keith is set on spending his instead, well, power to him. Lance won’t stop him. Lance will maybe be a little impressed and a little shamelessly turned on while he does it, but he definitely won’t _stop him_.

By the time Keith returns, Lance has at least half the cart filled, and almost doesn’t notice that Keith has slipped anything into it right away. If it weren’t for the fact that the package was bright yellow, bright enough to do a double take. Lance groans, looking to Keith in exasperation.

“Fruit Gushers don’t fucking count as a fruit, Keith, I _swear_ I’ll beat your ass.”

“Why do you _care_ what I eat?”

“As your friend, I can’t stand by and let you destroy your health.” Lance says, throwing a hand over his heart dramatically. “I know it’s hard to believe, but I sort-of like having you around. Plus you still haven’t paid the rent for next month and I’m not trying to be left high and dry when you die of scurvy before the due date.”

“Well, good news for you, if I’m paying for this many groceries I feel almost obligated to stick around and eat some of them.” Keith mutters, eyeing everything Lance has picked out with what can only be described as resigned acceptance. Lance gives an indignant squawk, hands flurrying in a gesture he doesn’t even fully understand. He punches Keith in the shoulder.

“Who said you were paying? I have money!” Lance says, for his image’s sake. Keith shoots him an amused look, almost like he can see right through him, see how much he actually loves this new habit Keith has of paying for everything he ever needs. Lance swallows hard, averts his eyes. 

He’s only looking away for a second or two, but at the sound of a sickening crunch his eyes flick back up in shock. There, right in the middle of the store, Keith is biting into an apple. They haven’t even fucking paid for it yet! Lance gapes at him. “Keith!”

“What are you gonna do? Call the cops? I thought you wanted me to eat healthy.” Keith shrugs, grinning as the apple hangs carelessly in his grip. Lance glares at him for a long, long moment. Keith’s grin only grows the longer the moment stretches. Eventually, left with no other choice, he grabs a handful of Keith’s shirt and drags him bodily around a corner into the most dead aisle in the store.

He shoves him back against the shelves, gets up in his space and stares him down.

“You are _so_ …” Lance trails off, searching for the word though he’s sure it’s on the tip of his tongue. It doesn’t help that Keith is staring right back at him, violet eyes boring into his in plain amusement. He’s smirking too, dark and mischievous in nature, like he’s enjoying every second of this exchange. Lance glares at him harder.

“... _So_?” Keith prompts, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“ _Infuriating_.” Lance settles on, and that should be the point he shoves him away and stalks off, but he finds himself glued to the spot. His fist is curled so tightly around Keith’s shirt, he isn’t sure he’d be able to unwind his fingers if he tried. His gaze is heavy where it lingers on Keith’s face, memorizing every detail to the expression he’s wearing right now, all smug and mischievous. He can’t be sure, but he thinks he sees the same lust he’s feeling right now reflected in Keith’s pitch black pupils.

“You gonna hit me or kiss me about it?” Keith says then, stretching the moment on even longer. It’s a call to motion and Lance finds himself still frozen still as a statue, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

“I’m not gonna give you the satisfaction of either.” He blurts eventually, the moment he finds it within himself to speak again. Keith has been staring at him for a few long seconds at that point, something amused and playful still playing at his features. Lance whirls around and hurries back to the cart, hoping to hide his blush. 

It makes no sense, really. Why he’s getting so flustered now. He literally posts himself getting off for the entirety of the internet to see, and he’s definitely done far worse with previous partners, it’s just different with Keith. Their entire dynamic is tension and back and forth. He’s not sure how it’s gonna happen when, or if, they finally let that tension snap, but he’s sure it won’t be a clean break. It’ll be messy and dirty, in a way that it’s probably not allowed to be in a fucking grocery store.

“What’s gotten into you today?” He asks, when Keith rejoins him a moment later, looking far too casual with that fucking apple still gripped in his hand. Lance shakes his head, fondness creeping through him even now. Keith doesn’t look at him as he answers, just tilts his head back and stares up at the buzzing lights overhead.

“I’ve grown fond of your outraged face, I guess.” 

“Come on, Romeo, keep it in your pants until we’re out of the produce aisle.” Lance grumbles, grabbing his sleeve and dragging him along just before he runs into a display. Keith leans into it like a cat would, and Lance tries as best he can not to read into that more than he has to.

“And then?” Keith says, in that famous fuckboy tone, and Lance can’t help but laugh.

“Well, _who knows_ what could happen in the meat section.” He answers easily, and just like that, the uncharacteristic seriousness that’d passed over them is gone. Lance thinks he likes that most about Keith, the way things can switch from serious to casual in an instant. They get each other’s sense of humor surprisingly well, considering how opposite they’d seemed in the beginning. Maybe they’ve just been spending too much time together.

Much later, they gather at the front of the store near the cash.

“Alright, I think that’s everything.”

“Only took two hours.”

“Aw, poor baby. Can’t keep up with me, can you?” Lance counters. Keith gives him a look, blatantly unimpressed, and it’s all Lance can do to keep from laughing. He turns to his cart instead, finds that he’s next in line and starts reaching in to stack his groceries. “I’m paying, okay?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m serious, Keith. I know you have some kind-of sugar daddy agenda, but I haven’t paid for the groceries in weeks and that’s not what we agreed to when you moved in. So, let me do this.”

“Alright, I’m not gonna _fight you_ over it.” Keith holds his hands up defensively, and Lance narrows his eyes at him suspiciously. Truth be told, he’s not entirely convinced, but now that they’re close enough for a bold call-out it’s not like Keith is going to challenge him over nothing.

Lance turns away from him anyway, looking up just in time when the cashier goes to greet him. It’s a cute guy, probably a little younger than Lance, dressed in a perfectly-ironed uniform. He’s also blatantly and obviously checking Lance out right back, a little smile playing at his lips as he pushes blond hair back behind his ear.

“Hey, did you find everything you were looking for today?”

“Everything and more.” Lance answers, keeps his tone light, though there’s no question about the flirty undertones beneath it. He doesn’t see any harm in entertaining it, especially when the guy lights up like it’s made his day. He’s subtle about it though, as is the way when you’re working retail and you know nothing will ever actually come from the exchange.

“I’m sure.” He answers, smiling as he nods down at Lance’s shirt. “I like your shirt.”

“Oh, thank-you!” Lance beams. It’s practically code, right? Guy compliments your shirt in public, it’s probably a compliment intended for more than your shirt. Lance grins back at him, as he hands over the last of the groceries and watches them get run through the scanner. “I love your hair, it really suits you.”

And that’s it. That’s the extent of their exchange. It wasn’t meant to amount to anything more, wasn’t meant to be something on either end. Lance flirts with strangers all the time, for a good thirty seconds, then moves on and forgets their entire existence. It’s just how he operates, he doesn’t think anything of it, it’s so normal to him.

But when he fishes his wallet out and chances a hopeful glance in Keith’s direction, he finds a downright wolfish grin on his face. And that’s the moment Lance realizes that Keith definitely isn’t the casual flirting type, doesn’t understand the culture at all.

“Alright, your total is three hundred and-”

“It’ll be debit, thanks.” Keith speaks up over the cashier, his tone firm. Lance gapes at him.

“Keith! What did we s-”

“Shh, don’t worry about it.” Keith assures him, dismissing his concerns with an indifferent wave of his hand in his general direction. It’s not near enough to shut Lance up and he immediately opens his mouth again to say as much, but then Keith turns on him in an instant. And it’s something else, having all that boyish charm directed at him, something devious in his gaze. He’s so distracted by it that he forgets to prepare himself for whatever it is Keith has planned until it’s too late.

Lance blinks as Keith’s hand settles gently on his cheek, a quick and subtle caress that leaves him reeling the moment it’s withdrawn. “It’s on daddy this time, yeah?”

Well, fuck.

Lance thinks he hears the cashier suck in an audible gay gasp, and he can’t honestly say he doesn’t do the same. 

It takes him a few unblinking, unbreathing seconds to come back to the moment enough to slam his jaw shut, unaware of when it’d fallen open. He turns away abruptly, stares wide-eyed and frazzled down at the groceries, then begins to mechanically gather the ones that are already bagged. 

He doesn’t look the cashier in the eye again, isn’t sure that he can. Not out of shame necessarily, Lance has always been shameless when it comes to kinks, but more because he knows he’ll see a perfect mirror reflection of what he looks like. Like some starstruck preteen suffering through his gay awakening.

No, he doesn’t even attempt to speak again until they’re crossing the parking lot, Keith silently pushing the cart along. Lance hasn’t even looked at him directly, but he can still feel the smug aura in the air, and it’s driving him insane. Keith has no fucking right to exploit his hotness. Sure, Lance does the same, but Keith is so hot it’s just unfair to double up on it like that.

“You near gave that poor cashier a heart attack, asshole.” Lance says, as he pops the trunk of his car and starts piling everything in. Meanwhile, Keith leans against the side of his car, watching him work.

“I know.” 

“You are unbelievable.” Lance glances up at him, tries to read his expression and comes up short. He sighs, turning back to his work. “You gonna help with these or is the limit of your helpfulness just throwing your money around to show off?”

“I wasn’t showing off.”

“No? Just staking a claim, then?” Lance counters, calling him out. Keith doesn’t look taken aback by the boldness as much as amused, not an ounce of shame in the way he relents, shrugs his shoulders in agreement like it’s a perfectly normal thing to admit to. “Between this and Lotor, I’m starting to think you just don’t like when guys flirt with me.”

At that, Keith takes the cart back to the dock, and Lance slides into the driver’s seat before he has a chance to steal it this time. A moment later, Keith rejoins him, settling in the seat next to him and immediately propping his feet up. Lance starts the car, gets ready to leave, but surprisingly it’s Keith who brings the conversation back to life.

“He wasn’t your type anyway.” That has Lance pausing, keeping his car exactly where it is in the parking space as he turns back to Keith. Keith, who meets his gaze easily, like he doesn’t have a thing to hide. It isn’t that he minds it, but Lance can’t help but wonder why all the forwardness now? What changed that has Keith being so bold about it? Sure, they’ve been flirting, a lot, but there seems to be a lot more _intent_ behind this.

“Oh? And what do _you_ know about my type?”

“I have my theories.” Keith grins, leaning across the center console into Lance’s space.

“I’d love to hear them.” Lance says, playing into it. They lean closer, breath near mingling, Keith’s hair falling across his forehead and just barely tickling Lance’s cheek. And distantly, Lance knows what they’re doing, knows they’re walking that fine line of snapping the tension for good. Hell, anyone outside of the car would have to look twice to make sure they weren’t already kissing, their lips so very close to touching. 

But… Lance isn’t sure they should. As much as he wants to, and he really does, he wants to be sure they talk about it first and that they’re on the same page. So he pulls back, places a hand in the center of Keith’s chest and shoves him back into his own seat. Wicked laughter bubbles up and out of him, but Lance ignores the teasing element to it. “Oh, fuck off, we both know you’re right anyway. Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy being flirted with and admired, though.”

“ _Mhm_.”

“What about you, huh?” Lance accuses lightly, and Keith hums an intrigued noise. “Never would’ve guessed you’d be the type to have a daddy kink.”

“I don’t.” But it’s clipped, short, way too tense for the atmosphere of their conversation. Interesting...

“No? You seemed pretty eager to play the role.”

“Not my thing.” Keith insists, turning to look out the window, avoiding the topic entirely. Lance isn’t sure what to make of that, his gaze lingering while the car idles. Maybe he hit the nail on the head, jabbed a little too close to home. Even with all of their flirting and their bolder comments, they don’t really have genuine conversations about sex, not like Lance does with Hunk. Maybe it’s forbidden territory when there’s so much pre-existing sexual tension between them, Lance isn’t sure.

Eventually he’s forced to back out of the parking space and start home though, so he dismisses the conversation with the promise of coming back to it another time.

“Sure, Keith, whatever you say…”

\--

“Dinner is served.” Lance announces with a flourish, from somewhere across the room. Keith has half a mind to lift his head and peer over the back of the couch, but as it is he’s sprawled out too comfortably to bother with it. He’s sure Lance will come to him anyway, eager to show off his genius creation he’s been working on for the past couple hours. More than once, Keith had made the mistake of curiously wandering into the kitchen, and was always shooed out just as quick or begged to stay and do dishes.

Once, he’d relented and attempted to do dishes behind Lance as he worked, only to be slapped out of the way for being too slow about it. At that point, he’d given up and retired to the couch, though he couldn’t deny the fond eyeroll and smile that accompanied his departure.

It was adorable, in a way, how invested Lance was in this. It was hardly the first meal he’d cooked for the two of them, in fact more often than not he was working on some manner of home cooked meal when Keith arrived home after a long day of work. It was never a particularly dramatic affair before, but he knows tonight is different. He knows exactly why.

It hadn’t been on purpose. It was entirely accidental, for the record. He was just coming out of the shower like normal, headed out to the kitchen to seek out Lance, but at the sound of conversation he’d paused just before stepping out. It wasn’t all that rare for Lance to have guests over, especially Hunk who always seemed to drop in unannounced, and Keith wasn’t exactly fond of the idea of walking around shirtless and fresh out of the shower in front of strangers.

Except, as he listened, he realized Lance had to have been on the phone. 

Unfortunately, he realized that at the exact same time he realized what they were talking about… who they were talking about.

Truth be told, if he hadn’t heard Lance say it with his own words, Keith likely wouldn’t have realized that this was a date. Not that Lance wasn’t doing a great job, it just… feels jarringly similar to how they spend all of their nights together. And that’s how, belatedly, Keith realizes he’s more or less dating Lance already. Aside from the absence of kissing and sex, if anything it’s a more committed relationship than he’s had with any of his exes. Lance is definitely more affectionate and flirty than any of them had been.

It’s not that he’s terribly upset by the idea anymore. Of dating Lance. He’s long past the point where he was worried about getting hurt, if he’s honest with himself. He knows Lance now, knows that though he sleeps around and talks a big game, he’s also… a hopeless romantic. It’s never as strictly physical as he plays it off as, he falls for every single person he sleeps with, and most he doesn’t too. 

It just feels the slightest bit jarring, switching things up like that when he’s gotten so comfortable with what they have. It feels like taking a risk, though he knows exactly how Lance feels already, has no reason to fear a rejection when he’s the one being propositioned. He’s never had the best of luck with romantic relationships, his understanding is that they’re of a fragile fleeting nature. 

He doesn’t want to lose his apartment, he has a good thing going here. But more than that, the idea of losing Lance is painful to him. More than it has any right to be. He’s not even sure when he started to matter to him so very much.

As if on cue, Lance waltzes into the living room carrying a tray stocked with food. Keith resists the urge to roll his eyes, instead deciding to entertain Lance’s dramatic nature. He sits up, makes himself comfortable as Lance settles the tray onto the coffee table. He’s honestly surprised Lance didn’t have him walk out to the kitchen and sit at the table properly.

“Bon appetit.” Lance grins, settling down onto the couch next to him with a plate of his own. He doesn’t go straight to eating though, instead toying absentmindedly with his fork, eyes completely fixed on Keith and waiting on a reaction. Giving in, Keith spoons the first mouthful of food into his mouth, deciding there’s no reason to put it off any longer. Lance grins. “Well? What’s the official review?”

Swallowing audibly, Keith shrugs his shoulders. It takes everything in him to keep his smile at bay long enough for it to look anything even remotely close to convincing.

“It’s alright.” 

“ _Alright_?!” Lance parrots in a near-screech. Keith cracks immediately then, nearly choking on his food as he takes to giggling. “For your sake, you’d better pray that I don’t tell my mama you said that or she’ll tear you a new one the first time you meet.”

“I’m kidding, Lance. It’s great. Wonderful. You did an amazing job.”

“Oh no, you’re too late, you can’t flatter me with empty praise now. It’ll forever haunt me that I spent _hours_ slaving over a meal for you and your response was simply “It’s alright”.” 

“Is there a reason my review matters so much more to you tonight? It’s hardly the first time you’ve cooked for me, need I remind you?” Keith says it without really thinking it through, an eagerness overcoming him the longer they sit there dancing around the obvious. He knows what’s happening here and a part of him is desperate for it, impatient like he’s been waiting for weeks. Another part of him is terrified, digging his heels in and refusing to look ahead even when it’s right in front of him.

He hadn’t thought this through. Of course he’d known Lance had some manner of feelings for him, and he had been feeding into it by flirting back, it was only the natural course of things that eventually it would amount to something more. Still, it feels too soon.

“What are you implying?”

“I heard you. Earlier. On the phone.” Keith comes right out with it, lacking the subtlety he was born with.

“Oh.” Lance breathes out, deeply hushed, like he’s afraid to voice a reaction any louder than that. Keith tries to continue eating, tries not to make this a more serious moment than it has to be, but he finds it impossible to swallow around the lump in his throat. So he sets his plate aside, turns on the couch to face Lance properly, albeit from the opposite armrest. He clears his throat, tries not to feel discouraged by the faraway glassy look in Lance’s eyes.

He looks panicked. Sensibly, Keith supposes. He probably doubts that Keith feels the same.

“This is… a date?” Keith asks him, outright. He figures he ought to hear it from the source, be sure of it, before he tries to decide his next decision. One thing at a time.

“Sort-of.”

“Sort-of? It either is or it isn’t.” Keith doesn’t mean to sound quite so demanding about it. It’s just that he’s nervous, and he’s not used to feeling that way, especially not around Lance. It’s been a while since he’s been anything other than completely himself around his roommate and it’s setting him on edge, making him act strangely, defensive. He hopes he doesn’t scare Lance off before they can have this conversation, because contrary to how he’s sure it looks, he really does want to have it.

“Well, yes and no, because my answer depends entirely on your reaction.” Lance says, like a coward, and it certainly doesn’t help his case. It reminds Keith too closely of him dodging other important questions, refusing to choose a side. He narrows his eyes. 

“I can’t react until you answer. If you can’t even say it, maybe you’re not as serious as you think about this. Maybe you’re going to walk out tomorrow and _regret asking for it_.”

“Keith, come on, don’t be like that.” 

“We shouldn’t. It could end badly. Like _last time_.” Keith plays the same card a second time in a row, figures it’s the only one in his deck right now. He keeps staring at Lance though, expectant, hoping he’ll bring something better to the table and navigate this as effortlessly as he does everything else. But for once, Lance seems even more lost than Keith.

“Maybe,” Lance relents eventually, the word slipping past his lips like it’s painful to admit. Keith’s glare only narrows. “but how will we know if we don’t ever try it out? Give it an honest shot while we’re both clear-headed and consenting? We messed up last time, that doesn’t mean we can’t try again.”

“Doesn’t mean we _should_ either.”

“Look, let’s talk about it.” Lance breathes, slumping back into the cushions. He looks much older like this, exhausted in ways Keith’s never seen. “I fucked up. I fucked up bad. I don’t expect you to forget or forgive it. I may not remember what happened, but I know how badly it must have hurt to be rejected like that. It’s not up to me to sit here and tell you I’m worth your time, that’s for you to decide. All I can do is stand by and leave the ball in your court. If you decide you want to try this? Great. If you decide you never want to? That’s also fine. I’m happy just to have you in my life as a friend.”

Lance looks at him after he’s finished speaking, open and honest, and Keith knows that he meant every word. It would have been much, much easier if he’d been being disingenuine, but it’s clear now that that’s not the case. So what now, then? Keith doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what he wants. Lance has put the ball in his court fully now, is wearing his heart on his sleeve, and Keith doesn’t know what to do with either.

“I need to think about it.” He eventually manages to come out with.

“Of course.” Lance forces a smile that looks nothing like his usual one and it strikes a chord deep in Keith’s chest, how wrong it is. “No pressure. It’s not an offer with an expiration date.”

“Thanks for the dinner, Lance.” Keith tells him with a smile, neither one of them addressing the fact that he didn’t even clear his plate. He sets it aside, gets to his feet. Lance is still wearing that unnerving grin and it makes it hard to look him in the eye. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Keith.” Lance calls after him, but by then Keith is halfway down the hall already, so he doesn’t bother giving a response. Not that he could, his words feel like they’ve run away from him, his head a tangled mess of thoughts one after the other, not a single one distinguishable from the rest.

It’s only once he steps into his room and goes to close the door behind himself that he realizes Kosmo isn’t trailing along behind him like he normally would, especially when Keith is in a mood like this. And predictably, his concern for his dog wins out over his fear of social interaction. He walks back down the hall, mouth already open to call out to Lance in question, but he chokes back the words when he pokes a head around the corner. Because he’s given his answer, clearly, as his gaze falls on the couch.

The couch where Kosmo isn’t allowed, for the record. The startling stark white couch that Lance had paid so many hundreds for, treasured with his life. And Keith had been good about following the rule, albeit begrudgingly because he feels his dog deserves the world, couches included. And Kosmo has been good about it too, surprisingly, given he’s always been allowed on all the furniture before. But it seems an exception has been made tonight.

Keith lingers for a few seconds, something pained in his throat as he watches Lance hug Kosmo tight to his chest, face buried in the scruff of the dog’s fluffy neck. He’s muttering angrily under his breath, but it doesn’t take much to decipher that it’s at himself, not the dog. Quiet chastisements for messing everything up, for saying the wrong thing, for being too much. And Keith wants to tell him that none of it is his fault, but he figures it isn’t his place. He asked to be alone, he’s not going to take away Lance’s chance to do the same.

So he heads back to his room, figures that Kosmo is being left in good hands.

It’s not until hours and hours later that Kosmo comes pushing his way into Keith’s room, waking him up from his fitful sleep with a tongue dragged across his cheek. Keith grumbles the entire way through, but eventually he manages to sit up and wrestle the dog into laying down rather than jumping about the bed excitedly. Keith gives him a few pats, for good measure, then gets up and closes his door properly behind the dog, locks it too.

By the time he comes back to the bed, Kosmo has settled near the foot of it, and he climbs back under the covers himself. He’s sort-of fucked his sleep schedule, having such a long nap so early in the evening, and now he isn’t tired. He busies himself by giving his social media a scroll-through, distracted, aimless, not really paying attention to any of it.

That is, until a familiar username catches his attention.

It’s terribly predictable that Leandro would be online right now. Partly, because of the late hour. Mostly, because he always seems to be around when Keith needs him to be, when he needs something to distract him and take him someplace far away from his own mind. His biggest and only indulgence, and it’s a private sort-of thing, but he likes it better that way.

He’s typing a message out before he’s even fully thought it through. He doesn’t feel particularly horny, or at all, but that’s the nature of their relationship and it’s a small price to pay to have someone to turn to right now. Someone who won’t be smothering and overbearing like Shiro, or dismissive and indifferent like Acxa. And god forbid he try to talk about matters of the heart with Thace.

**Redwolf19: I’ve got a couple hundred bucks with your name on it if you can manage to distract me from my thoughts.**

He doesn’t have to wait long. He never does. Leandro is predictable that way, if he’s been posting recently then he’s always quick to get back to you. Hell, even usually when he hasn’t been posting. It makes sense, Keith supposes, considering it is his job to be there to service people whenever they might want him. Still, he appreciates it on a personal level, like he’s getting special treatment.

_Prettybluekitty: Bad day at work again?_

**Redwolf19: Yeah. Awful.**

It’s not the truth, but Keith isn’t sure he wants to get into the whole truth of it. He’s thought about it enough tonight, now he’s trying to stop thinking. Leandro is remarkably good at helping him accomplish that, he always has been. He doubts tonight will be the exception to the rule.

_Prettybluekitty: Don’t worry baby, I’ve got you. What did you have in mind?_

What did he have in mind? Keith hadn’t really thought that far ahead, hadn’t thought about what he wanted much at all. Normally he comes into this with a specific request or demand, but today he’s void of an idea entirely. All he knows is that he wants to talk to Leandro, wants to not think for a little while.

**Redwolf19: Surprise me? I’m sure you have an idea of what I like by now.**

_Prettybluekitty: I have my suspicions._

It takes a couple minutes, but Keith is accustomed to the wait, and it gives him plenty of time to start to work himself up imagining what’s to come. This is one area of their exchange that’s never predictable, given that Leandro is delightfully creative with how he poses, what he wears, how he approaches things.

When a photo eventually arrives in his inbox, Keith has to bite down on his tongue to keep from making an audible sound of approval, something low and growly no doubt. Because Leandro is dressed in lace, a special sort-of treat given that he only really posts photos wearing it once or twice a month. But rarer still because it’s a pale baby blue lace, rather than a familiar black or white, or even red. This color compliments his skin tone, accentuates all of his soft curves just right. Keith’s mouth threatens to water just at the sight of it. 

The panties are admittedly too small, but Keith has reason to believe that was the intention, where the outline of his hard cock stands hard and proud against the fabric. His balls are threatening to spill out of the blatantly feminine thong, all of the skin between his legs completely smooth and barren of hair, Keith wishes he could bury his face between those long legs and get his fill of it. It’d be easy, infuriatingly easy, to hook a finger around that thin strand of fabric and pull it to the side, to get his mouth where he really wanted it. He’d devour Leandro, given the chance, would lathe and lavish him with his tongue until the boy was quivering beneath him.

But arguably more appealing, given that he doesn’t often wear them, is the dainty bralette wrapped around his chest and just barely managing to cover his nipples. It’s the furthest thing from practical, but that’s not the point. The point lies in how Keith can’t tear his eyes away from it, how hungry he feels to see more, how he’d give near anything to be there in person and be able to tear the flimsy fabric away from Leandro’s body.

**Redwolf19: You’re gorgeous.**

**Redwolf19: Do I get to see what you look like with it** **_off_ ** **?**

_Prettybluekitty: Not like you haven’t seen it before, but maybe if you ask nicely._

Keith pulls a face, his patience already wearing thin after the day he’s had. He readjusts in his bed, gets comfortable against the pillows and kicks his pants off. His cock isn’t hard yet, but it likely won’t take long if Leandro keeps sending him photos like that.

**Redwolf19: I’m not in the mood to beg.**

_Prettybluekitty: You always say that, but I think you like when I make you earn it._

There’s another photo sent then, and this one is an even more blatant tease than the last one, Leandro’s body crowded closer to the camera so Keith has a good view of where he’s pushing his pecs together to form a thin line of cleavage between them. Keith can’t chase away the image of his own cock slotting into that divot, fucking between Leandro’s tits while he holds them in place. Fuck.

Irritated as he is by it, Keith finds himself giving in remarkably fast. He always does when it comes to Leandro, he’s never once been able to tell him no. He goes along with it, gives him whatever he wants, and usually it’s always worth it for him in the long run. Pride be damned.

**Redwolf19: Will you take your clothes off for me, pretty boy?**

_Prettybluekitty: Getting warmer._

**Redwolf19: Come on, don’t tease. I want to see you. You’d make me very happy.**

_Prettybluekitty: Is that so?_

**Redwolf19: Please? For daddy?**

It’s not a card that Keith plays often, doesn’t want to overuse it and have it lose its impact. It works like a charm though, like it always does, and within seconds there’s a follow-up photo landing in his inbox. As requested, Lance is undressed, or rather in the act of undressing. His panties are halfway down his thighs, his bralette torn apart in the center clasp and hanging loosely where its draped across his chest.

Keith’s cock gives an interested twitch where it’s filling slowly in his palm.

**Redwolf19: Fuck. That’s it.**

**Redwolf19: God, what I’d give to be there with you. I’d fuck you so hard.**

_Prettybluekitty: You want the address? I’m free all night._

At that, Keith can’t help but growl through his teeth in poorly-contained frustration. He wraps a hand around his cock, gives it a slow stroke and then a squeeze, annoyed further by the lack of slickness to aid his glide of skin on skin. He tips his head back, stares toward the ceiling, and feels his resolve snap.

**Redwolf19: Screw this. I’ll send you a thousand, just stop fuckign teasing me. Let’s do this live.**

_Prettybluekitty: That’s what I like to hear._

**Redwolf19: Was this your intention all along then? To drain my pockets just like my cock? Fucking slut.**

“Mm, fuck.” A scratchy voice filters through his computer speakers and Keith has to scramble to find his headphones, jamming them onto his head moments later. It’s only a one-way call, Keith isn’t anywhere near the point where he wants anyone to watch him get off in live time, stranger or not. So Keith is free to admire, shamelessly, as the camera kicks in and he gets to see Leandro’s body in all of it’s unfiltered glory. It takes a moment to come back to his previous concern, eyes blinking wide.

But by then Leandro is already speaking again, low and easy, like it’s a regular occurance. And it is, to an extent, Leandro has always moaned and whimpered and cursed his way through his videos. Occasionally, he's even strung together something vaguely coherent, a full sentence or two per video. He's never spoken like this though, casual and friendly, almost conversational. Like this, his voice is jarringly and startlingly familiar to Keith. Like he’s heard it a hundred times before. It’s unsettling, has the gears in his mind turning, trying to pinpoint where he recognizes the voice from. It helps when he keeps speaking. “So I'm a fucking slut, huh? You weren’t kidding about being in a bad mood, were you? You hardly ever call me names. Why is it so fucking hot when you do it?”

**Redwolf19: You’re talking.**

It’s not the most well-worded message he could have sent, but it’s not like anyone will blame him for his less than stellar vocabulary at a time like this. Leandro is still filling his screen, writhing around against silky bedsheets, face just out of frame. His body is spread out and inviting, open for the taking, if Keith could only reach out and take it.

“Figured you’re a loyal enough customer that you get some perks. Do you like it?”

**Redwolf19: Yeah.**

No use lying about it. By now Leandro must know that he has Keith utterly and wholly wrapped around his pinky finger. Anything he does, Keith eats it up, loves every second of it.

“Good.” And it rolls off his tongue slow and smooth, like honey, but twice as sweet. It’s dripping, saccharine, syrup-thick and impossible to swallow around. Keith wants to kiss those pretty lips visible at the top of the frame, wants to drink down every word. 

But, regrettably, Leandro shifts backward and then starts to turn around instead. Not that Keith isn’t also thrilled about this, about being able to see where those panties frame his ass, half pulled down and undersized as they are. Except, well, he forgets all about it the moment Leandro settles with his back turned to the camera. “Now let me take care of you, yeah? By the time we’re done you’ll forget all about the day you had. Let me be a good boy for you.”

**Redwolf19: Is that a tattoo?**

Keith needn’t ask. He knows the answer.

He knows the answer with crippling finality, from the very first glimpse, from the second he saw the color palette splattered across skin, even before the lineart came into focus. He knows. He knows that fucking tattoo. He poured his heart and soul into it, spent hours a slave to the details of the design, brought it into existence with carefully shaking hands and stolen breath as Lance stretched out beneath him on the bench. Lance.

Why is Leandro wearing Lance’s tattoo on his back? Custom-designed only a few short weeks ago, by Keith himself, and never posted anywhere publicly where it could be stolen by anyone else?

There’s only one answer.

Keith isn’t sure if he likes it.

He’s even less sure, of anything and everything, when Leandro (Lance?) reaches back behind himself and grips both his ass cheeks in either hand. He spreads them apart, so Keith can see where the thin thong string is nestled between them, barely covering anything at all. His heart is lodged in his throat, his cock harder than he thinks it’s ever been and definitely harder than it has any right to be right now.

“Mm, it’s new.” Leandro says, beaming pride. “Isn’t it pretty?”

Keith doesn’t know what to say (or rather, type). He’s forgotten the entire English language, a serious downgrade from his already lacking horny vocabulary. At the very least, he understands why he recognizes the voice now, given it’s the same voice that he hears every morning and every night. But that’s one question answered and a hundred more asked, because none of this makes any fucking sense.

Has he been talking to Lance this entire time? For years? Years before they ever met in person?

Surely not, right? What are the chances of that? That this thing between them would start years ago, when they were settled on either side of the country, and end in them somehow managing to meet in person? But what other explanation is there, that this is some kind of prank? Lance may be a jokester at times, but in what fucking world would showing your ass off to your friend pass as a prank?

So he doesn’t know. There’s no way he knows. 

“ _Daddy_? You still there?” Leandro, no, Lance asks. There’s a hint of uncertainty in his voice, even as he shifts in the spot, against his folded knees, no doubt to show off the way his perky little ass bounces with the movement. Keith feels like he’s lost his mind. He doesn’t know if he wants this call to end now or to never end again.

**Redwolf19: Yeah.**

“Figured I’d give people something to look at while they’re fucking me from behind.” Lance says then, and though he’d jokingly said something along the same lines when he’d first told Keith the placement he wanted for his tattoo, Keith hadn’t entertained the idea that he might be serious. It was easier to dismiss it as a joke than address the elephant in the room, the thought of Lance regularly getting plowed into the bed by strangers.

And then, because Keith is a glutton for punishment, and needs the most straightforward confirmation he can possibly get… he asks the obvious question.

**Redwolf19: Can I see it up close?**

“The tattoo or my ass?” Lance answers, but it’s light and airy, nervous. He’s not sure why Keith is acting strange about it, why they aren’t already dirty-talking their way through shared orgasms and are instead still hung up on this minute detail. Keith’s mouth is remarkably dry, as Lance backs up close to the camera, arches his back just so, gives Keith the perfect view of his tattoo. Just like when he’d been the one tattooing it. “I’m messing with you. Here. I got it done by my roommate, he’s a certified professional and everything. He’s really fucking good at what he does, huh?”

**Redwolf19: Yeah.**

It’s a strange ego trip, staring at his work in this context. He can’t honestly say he’s ever slept with anyone he’s tattooed, and though he’s vaguely aware of how strange it is to feel this pride swelling in his chest, he can’t help it. He likes seeing his art blanketing Lance’s skin, likes that he’s left a mark there permanently, that from now on everyone that ever looks at him in this context will see what’s essentially Keith’s signature. Fuck.

His silence must be telling, because Lance gives an intrigued hum of a noise, dipping just low enough that Keith can see that perfect pink arch to the cupid’s bow of his upper lip. Those are Lance’s lips, they’re unmistakable, he’s spent enough time staring at them to know.

“What’s with the one word responses, daddy? Cat got your tongue? You got a kink for this or something?

**Redwolf19: Maybe.**

“Well, in that case, let me entertain it. I see no reason to move, I’m comfortable exactly as I am. You wanna watch me fuck myself with a toy from behind, baby?” Lance is too fucking good at this. Even through the shame and confusion, Keith’s fully hard now, pre-cum drooling idly from the tip of his cock as his fist twitches around it with the urge to touch. But he can’t. Or rather, shouldn’t. It’s a bad idea. A bad thing to do, to betray Lance’s trust like that. 

But Lance is begging him to, as he turns to hold two dildos up to the screen, both so familiar that they might as well be from Keith’s own private collection at this point. “Which one should I use, hm? I know these two are your favorites.”

With that, Keith decides that he’s reached his limit and slams his laptop screen down. He sits there, flushed and panting, hair standing up in every which direction, cock damningly hard against his stomach, his blood racing. He hears a muffled but obviously outraged sound from a couple rooms over and belatedly realizes what it must look like to Leandro, er, Lance, from his end of things. 

Guiltily, he opens the app back up with his phone and sends a parting message.

**Redwolf19: Something came up. I have to go. Don’t worry about your payment, I’ll send you the money now. Sorry I couldn’t stick around for the whole show.**

_Prettybluekitty: Guess I’ll have to take care of myself without you. You’re missing out, daddy._

**Redwolf19: I’m sure I am. Goodnight.**

And with that, Keith sends the payment and immediately biffs his phone across the room. If Lance hears it from his own bedroom, he doesn’t say anything. Kosmo, on the other hand, lifts his head from the floor and looks at Keith like he’s fully lost his mind. Keith ignores him, brings his knees up and buries his face into them, trying desperately to will his erection away.

This can’t be happening. Maybe, somehow, he imagined it. Maybe Leandro just has a tattoo that looks suspiciously and damningly identical to Lance’s. It doesn’t have to mean what Keith thinks it means. It doesn’t have to change everything for him, doesn’t have to be a pivotal moment he can’t come back from.

Except it does. And he knows it does. And so, he’s stuck.

“Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all!!! Had to post this in two separate parts bc of the wordcount, the Real end notes are at the end of the next chapter, so see you there :^)


	2. Chapter 2

Look, at this point Lance knows exactly what he’s getting into when it comes to Keith. So does it surprise him when Keith avoids him like the plague following their conversation about feelings? No, not really. He saw that coming from a mile away, especially with how quick Keith was to disappear into his room, not even bothering to finish eating his meal he was so uncomfortable (rude, by the way). When Keith stumbles upon a conversation topic that doesn’t come easily to him, he always reacts the same way, which is to avoid the conversation altogether for as long as realistically possible.

Lance knows this. Respects it. So, he vows to give him his space. 

It’s not like it was a particularly tense conversation, Lance made sure to be as laid back and approachable as he could be about the whole thing, even though he was offering his heart up on a platter and receiving a rejection in kind. He thought he did a good job of it too, he didn’t pressure Keith, didn’t place any expectations onto his shoulders. He figured it was only Keith being his usual self and needing time to process, nothing personal, and nothing to do with Lance.

Now he’s starting to second-guess himself. It’s been a week of Keith avoiding him, and that in itself wouldn’t be so bad, except every time they happen upon each other by accident around the house… the dude looks totally and completely spooked. Like he’s gonna jump right out of his skin, like he’s so deeply unsettled by Lance’s presence he has to vacate the premises at the next possible opportunity. Hell, he hasn’t looked Lance in the eye once throughout all the interactions they’d had since.

And maybe he just needs more time, maybe that’s all there is to it, but the simple fact of the matter is that… Lance has no fucking patience. Not for that, not for anything. He misses things being easy between him and Keith, misses spending time with him in the evenings watching tv, even somehow misses their daily morning jogs together. He’d never been the type to exercise, but Keith makes it significantly easier to tolerate. Keith makes everything better, is the point, and Lance misses him dearly.

So, he devises a plan.

Is his plan dramatic and over-the-top and definitely overkill? Well, yes, but who would he be if it wasn’t?

“I’m just gonna get you to sign right here, then Acxa will come take you to her room.” Ezor is the most bubbly and personable front desk lady Lance has ever had the pleasure of meeting. Lance never got to interact with her the last time he came here, Keith had ushered him right through to his private set-up without meeting anyone… but, maybe that was on purpose. 

Maybe Keith doesn’t want him mingling with his coworkers, mixing his private life with his professional one. Maybe Lance is crossing a line right now. Maybe this is a terrible fucking impulsive idea and Lance should turn around now and forget all about- 

“Wait a minute, you’re Keith’s roommate, right?” The voice that cuts through the waiting area is decidedly harsher than Ezor’s sweet tone. When Lance turns his head, he doesn’t immediately recognize the woman eyeing him up and down, but he feels like he can deduce who she is. He’s heard about Acxa enough times from Keith. They’re close, she’s probably Keith’s favorite coworker.

She’s as heavily tatted as Keith, arms adorned in some artwork that definitely must be his, with how similar it is to Lance’s own piece. She has countless ear piercings, and a few littered across her face, and her hair is short and choppy. She kind-of resembles Keith, not so much in facial features, but in style and attitude. That’s the only thing that’s keeping Lance from feeling incredibly intimidated by her.

“Oh! I thought he looked familiar!” Ezor beams, realization dawning across her features. She leans across the desk, claps Lance on the shoulder with a grin. “Are you surprising him at work? That’s so cute.”

“I mean, I mostly came for the piercings, but I might stop by and say hi to him if he isn’t too busy.”

“Too busy for you? I doubt it.” Ezor grins, wide and unabashed, propping her elbow against the desk and settling her chin in her palm. Her hair is a bright pink color and so long it falls around her waist like a cape, and it looks so natural on her that Lance can’t even comprehend what her original hair color must have been. “Besides, he’s on break right now. Coming back any second with our coffee delivery. Want me to send him in to Acxa’s room once he’s back? I’ll send him in blind, so I don’t ruin the surprise.”

“Well, uh, you don’t have to-”

“Do it.” Acxa interrupts, hitching a finger for Lance to follow her down the hall. He messily scrawls his signature, watches Ezor check it over, and then hastily rushes to catch up to Acxa. She’s already ducking into a room at the end of the hall and he follows her in a moment later. It’s not all that different from Keith’s room, albeit a bit smaller and decorated with different trinkets and plaques on the wall.

She gestures to the seat. He climbs up onto it and swings his feet back and forth over the edge, nerves amounting the longer the wait stretches on. He’s never been very good at things like this. The tattoo had only been marginally better and that had a lot to do with the fact it was Keith talking him through it.

“Getting your nipples done, huh?” 

“Yeah.” Lance answers, watching as she reads over his file. She’s quick to move on though, washing her hands and then pulling a pair of gloves on over them to get started. She starts gathering materials then, jewelry and needles, and Lance has to look away as a feeling of lightheadedness comes over him. Still, his mind lingers, and he has to know. “Does it hurt? I mean, obviously, I know it won’t feel good. But, in comparison to other piercings, how painful would you rank it on a scale from-”

“Don’t think about the pain, you’ll just psych yourself out.” Acxa answers, as if it’s as simple as that. He tries not to frown at the lackluster advice, but he must, because when she looks back toward him there’s a hint of sympathy in her eyes. “It’ll only last a couple seconds anyway, and then you’ll have something to show for it.”

“Right, of course.” Lance nods, trying to convince himself. “Can’t hurt more than a tattoo.”

“Can you take your shirt off for me?” Acxa asks him then, offering a wide encouraging smile that doesn’t suit her face at all. He doesn’t hesitate, not wanting to waste her time. He brings his shirt over his head with both hands, setting it awkwardly at his side. As she walks around the room, he hears her pause and make an inquisitive sound. “Your tattoo’s healing nicely.”

“Thanks.” Lance feels genuine pride swamp him, chest puffing out and confidence growing if only for a second or two. He finds he likes talking about his tattoo. To his friends, to the men he performs for online, and apparently to this intimidating stranger as well. “Keith’s great at what he does.”

“Mm, he sure is.” Acxa agrees, and it’s the most genuine thing she’s said since they met, that same pride Lance is feeling present in her voice as well. But then she’s settling next to him, leaning in close, eyeing him for permission. He nods his head, watches as she goes about sanitizing one of his nipples with a glorified wet wipe. His breath catches and holds, tension running high. “Stay very still for me.”

And just like that, she’s back with the needle and Lance’s vision swims in panic. He tips his head back, stares up at the ceiling, frozen still as she requested but only because the fear is bidding him so.

“Wait, one second, I don’t think I’m ready for-” The noise he lets out as the needle pierces through delicate skin falls somewhere between a scream and a squawk, loud and pitchy, definitely not distinguishable as any word known to any human language. His eyes prick with tears and he exhales an incredibly shaky breath.

“See? Not so bad, was it?”

“Definitely wasn’t _nice_.” Lance mutters, thankfully only feeling a small pinch as she effortlessly switches the needle out for the jewelry. It’s clear she’s good at what she does and he’s glad to be in skilled hands, but that doesn’t make him any more excited about having to go through it a second time with the other nipple. Especially not when she almost immediately tries to go in with another wipe. “Oh no, no way, I’m not ready for the next one yet.”

“Keith will be back any second now, don’t you want them done and over with before he gets here?”

“Fine.”

“Deep breath again. Exhale.”

“Motherfucker!” Lance curses vehemently, hands curled into angry fists at his sides, nails biting into the soft skin of his palms in his effort to keep from moving. But then it’s over with as quickly as it started, and he feels it when the jewelry is fit into place just right. Acxa’s hands disappear then and he risks his first glance down at himself. He can’t help but grin, impressed by how good they look already. Still, he feels compelled to complain when he sees the knowing expression Acxa is wearing, a blatant ‘I told you so’ in her eyes. “That one hurt way more than the first, oh my god, I think you did something wrong.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong, you’re just overreacting.” She grumbles, hackles immediately raised the second her skill is being questioned. It’s predictable, in the sense it’s exactly the same reaction he’s seen Keith have to similar comments. He understands now why they get along so well.

He’s about to tell her as much, when a quiet knock sounds on the door.

“Acxa? I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Keith’s voice echoes through the thin door and Lance must light up on instinct, because he’s left wiping the smile from his face when Acxa starts to chuckle at him under her breath. She winks at him, like he’s in on the joke, and then calls out to Keith.

“Come in.” The door opens a crack and Keith steps through it. He’s clearly not expecting her to be with a customer as he sets the tray down on her counter, letting out a heavy sigh.

“You would not believe how fucking long the lines were at the-” He turns his head to address her properly, donut clasped between his teeth, and promptly bites right through it. The pastry hits the sparkling-clean tiled floor and leaves an outline of icing in its place. Acxa looks absolutely thrilled.

“Your boyfriend’s a screamer. A warning would have been nice.” Acxa tells him, conversationally, as she pries her gloves off, tosses them out, and washes her hands again. She grabs her coffee delicately from the tray, leans back against the counter, shit-eating grin still displayed proudly on her face. Keith still hasn’t moved a muscle.

Unsettled by the ongoing silence and the fact Keith hasn’t once looked away from his underdressed state, Lance shifts awkwardly in his seat and decides to continue the conversation himself.

“I’m not a screamer! You try getting a needle through your nipple and not reacting!” He huffs, pouting rather petulantly. He glances between them, Acxa’s smug gaze still glued to Keith’s face, Keith’s stunned gaze lingering in Lance’s general chest area. Part of Lance wants to shift to cover himself, an instinctive reaction, but he doesn’t dare touch the new piercings. So he stays there, slumped and awkward. The silence stretches. He offers it another sentence, desperate for it to end. “I’m sensitive.”

“Mm, Keith’s a lucky guy.” Acxa muses aloud, and even that isn’t enough to stir Keith from his confused stupor, and it would be flattering if they hadn’t left things on such weird terms before. Now Lance isn’t sure what to make of it, if Keith is admiring or reeling in his reactions for an entirely different reason.

Very, very belatedly… Keith looks back to Acxa. He ignores her expression, reaches past her for a paper bag and slides it toward her across the counter. She quirks an eyebrow. “This mine?”

“Uh… yeah. I bought you one of those donuts you like.” Keith still sounds a little out of it, a little faraway from the moment, and Lance is left wondering if he’s maybe walking on eggshells because he’s feeling uncomfortable about Lance being here at all. Maybe it was ignorant of him, to assume he was allowed to approach Keith’s friends without asking first, to invade this area of his life.

Lance feels impossibly tense. And he’s left there with his fucking nipples out, looking like an idiot.

“Sweet, I’m taking my break now.” Acxa grins, reaching for the bag. She snatches it up, then seems to think of something else and grabs a pamphlet off the nearby rack. She holds it out to Lance and he sheepishly takes it. “All your aftercare information is in here. You’ll want to mist them with this saline solution three to six times a day, and perform a full sea salt soak twice a day for the first couple months, then once a day for the remainder of the healing process. Everything else is pretty straightforward, don’t switch the jewelry without consulting your piercer first, don’t submerge them in bath or pool water, don’t touch or play with them, don’t let anyone else touch or play with them. We strongly suggest wearing a clean cotton undershirt beneath your normal clothing as a second layer of added protection. Or, if you can find a sports bra that works for you and you wanna go that route, that’s a decent option as well. The healing process for nipple piercings can take up to a year, you really don’t want to risk doing anything that might make that process any longer than it has to be.” 

“Alright.”

“It’s all written down in this booklet, but if you have any questions or concerns, you can contact me with them.” Acxa tips her coffee toward him. He nods. “Granted, Keith knows all about piercing aftercare, he can probably help you out within reason. I trust that he has an idea of what he’s doing by now, or at the very least he knows enough to direct you toward me when he doesn’t have the answers.”

“Okay, great. Thanks.” Lance mumbles sheepishly, feeling impossibly small. He wants to reach for his shirt and pull it back on, but he can’t talk himself up to it. Acxa turns to the door, claps a hand on Keith’s shoulder as she passes. He tenses.

“What’s wrong, Keith? You’re awfully quiet over here in the corner. Admiring the view?” She teases him like only an old friend could, laidback and easy about it, like they’ve done it a thousand times before. He gives a quiet grunt of acknowledgement, the only giveaway that it’s affected him at all being the subtle twitch to his eyebrow.

“Do you _mind_?” Keith manages, turning to her in exasperation. She seems overjoyed to have earned a reaction finally and it only makes her double down on it twice as hard.

“Not at all, I’ll give you two some privacy... but if you fuck in my chair I’m calling the health inspector.”

And with that, they’re left alone together in the room. Keith still isn’t being particularly chatty, and he makes no effort at all to initiate anything, so after a few seconds Lance clears his throat and goes about lightening the mood all on his own. Wouldn’t be the first time, won’t be the last. He doesn’t mind so much, it just feels strange when he’s half-naked and Keith is staring him down like a dog to a bone.

“What do you think?” Lance gestures vaguely to his chest. “They look good, right?”

Keith looks like he has to put a lot of thought into his response.

“Yeah. They suit you.” He comes out with eventually, crossing the room to stand in front of Lance. Lance stares up at him, shifts backward as much as he can, which isn’t really much at all. He swallows hard, tries in vain to ignore the deep-settled heat that threatens to consume him. 

“What’s wrong?” Lance asks, biting his lip.

“Nothing.” Keith says, then thinks better of it. “Just wondering what you’re doing here.”

“Getting… my nipples pierced?” Lance tries. He’s not sure if it’s the right or wrong answer when Keith steps closer, between Lance’s widespread legs. “I did pay for it, if that’s what you’re worried about. I didn’t use your name to try and get them for free or anything. It was an honest exchange of money for services.”

“No, I mean...” Keith bites his lip, worrying it between stark white teeth as he considers his next words carefully. He exhales finally, steely resolve settling over his features. “Why the sudden decision to get your nipples pierced? Feeling impulsive?”

“This guy I’m talking to has a kink for body mods, I think.” Lance blurts, without thinking. It’s the truth, that _had_ been the final push that he’d needed to commit to this. It happened about a week ago, this guy that’s been following Lance for years had noticed his tattoo during a live show. Lance just wanted to playfully show it off a little, but the guy got right weird asking questions about it. Far too many questions for a single-minded man just looking to get off. 

After that, it didn’t take much to piece it together, that it was some kind of _kink_.

And listen, there’s a reason Lance keeps his customers coming back, and this customer in specific has been with him since the very beginning of his blog almost. So maybe Lance is a little more willing to indulge him than he is the others. He’s milked this guy for thousands of dollars, and though he doesn’t technically owe him anything more than he’s already given him for it, Lance likes to go above and beyond to earn his praise. He can already fucking taste it, how wrecked Redwolf19 is going to be when he sees these new piercings for the first time. The compliments, the praise, the dirty talk. It’s almost enough to turn Lance on just thinking about it, and there aren’t many clients that genuinely get Lance’s blood pumping anymore.

Unfortunately, Lance’s affliction for cock doesn’t seem to be a universal mindset, and Keith looks vaguely disturbed by the information he’s being fed. Lance feels a pang of regret. Maybe Keith really is closeminded about sex and this is where their similarities end, where their relationship meets a wrinkle that can’t be smoothed out. 

“ _Excuse me_?”

“You want me to repeat myself or you want me to clarify?”

“Both. Neither. I don’t know.” Keith’s voice seems strained. Lance narrows his eyes, admires the pretty flush to Keith’s cheek, the blown-out blackness of his pupils, the bitten-red hue to his bottom lip where he’s been biting at it. Look, Lance is no expert, but he’s probably the closest thing you can get when it comes to sex. He doesn’t want to dare to hope, doesn’t want to be wrong about this, but he’s starting to wonder if what Keith is feeling isn’t judgment at all, but rather… intrigue. Interest. Desire. 

Despite not being prompted to, Lance elaborates.

“It’s a thing, you know. A fetish, a kink, whatever you want to call it. Some people are really into body modifications. Sometimes as an aesthetic, sometimes for the act itself. There are people that bring needles into the bedroom, Keith, needles! They’re not even professionals, they just-”

“You’re gonna modify your body just to get some guy off? Seems a bit extreme, even for you.” And coming from anyone else, it would undoubtedly sound condescending in a bad way, would make Lance sour with dislike and flame with a desire to defend himself. But Keith is smiling as he says it, thin and amused, and Lance knows he’s only playing. And Lance finds he’s quite fond of the game.

He didn’t want to assume, but now there’s really no mistaking the blatant desire in Keith’s gaze, dark and heady with how saturated it is. Lance spreads his legs the slightest bit wider, Keith shifts minutely closer to him, and if Lance arched up into it, it would take nothing to grind their bodies together. 

“Well, I mean, it’s not an entirely selfless sacrifice.” Lance offers, tilting his head to the side, coyly showing off his chest and pushing it out. Keith’s eyes follow the movement, as he sucks in an audible breath, shaky and stuttering. Lance basks in the attention. “I’ve thought about it before, but hanging around you has sort-of inspired me to be more adventurous. So, you only have yourself to thank.”

“And you decided to come to _this_ shop, the one that I _work at_ … why, exactly?” Keith leans over him, bracing his arms against the chair on either side of Lance. And suddenly it’s all the more real, the game they’re playing, the fine line they’re walking. Keith’s lips are inches from his, close enough to feel the lingering warmth of his breaths, and Lance feels weightless like he might float away with the rush of adrenaline it brings to have him so close. His heart is pounding.

“Because it has the best reviews in the city and I value the wellbeing of my body? The world doesn’t revolve around you, Keith. What, you think I came here to _seduce you_?” Lance scoffs, tone dripping sarcasm, and then rolls his eyes toward the sky. Keith doesn’t seem amused in the slightest, but he doesn’t back off either, just keeps his hungry gaze on Lance’s face for a few seconds before, eventually… letting it drop between their bodies to where Lance’s chest is arched up toward him. Swallowing hard, Lance cracks a smirk. “Tell me, Keith, is it working?”

“You’re such a goddamn tease.” Keith snarls then, lurching backward like he’s been struck. He heads toward the door, snatches something off the counter, and holds it out to Lance accompanied by a downright withering stare. “Go home, Lance, leave me to work in peace. _Please_. Here’s your fucking pamphlet.”

Clumsily, Lance slides down from the chair and onto his feet. He reaches for his shirt, pulls it over his head as carefully as he can, mindful of his new piercings. They feel remarkably strange against the fabric and he’s sure it’ll take some getting used to. 

All the while, he eyes Keith from across the room. Keith, who isn’t facing him, but is instead staring at the closed door with a ferocity that’s entirely uncalled for. He’s got his arms folded over his own chest, shoulders squared, and even from behind he looks properly pissed. Lance isn’t sure what to make of it.

“Are you mad at me? Like, for real?” Lance says, finally, as he gingerly takes the offered pamphlet and tucks it into his back pocket. Keith doesn’t say a word, makes no move to deny it, and Lance feels panicked words start to spill past his lips in a hurry. He doesn’t want them to go back to avoiding each other, the whole point of this was to get Keith’s attention again and start to bridge the gap that’s formed between them. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I know it’s your place of work, but I just thought… fuck. I don’t know what I thought. I definitely didn’t think this through. I just wanted to see your reaction and-”

“I’m not _mad_ , Lance.” Keith says, suddenly, interrupting him. 

“Oh.” Lance sighs, relief heavy in his voice. His thoughts begin to wander then, and he doesn’t have much time to jump to another conclusion, before Keith is turning to face him and his answer is blatantly clear. Oh, how delicious, he’s never seen Keith looked so very wrecked, his control a weakly-grasped thing slipping between his fingers. His eyes are dark, his eyebrows dropped low over his gaze in an almost predatory glare, and when Lance risks that telltale glance down between them he’s almost certain there’s a visible outline in the front of those too-tight jeans he’s wearing. Lance repeats himself, this time with a bit more intrigue. “ _Oh_?”

“I don’t have a fucking body mod kink, for the record. I want that on file before you try to exploit it and use it against me. I just think they look nice on you. It’s a _personal_ thing, not a kink thing, so give that up before it starts.” Keith growls out, grabbing him by the arm and hauling him to the door. And well, isn’t that something to dwell on, something to pick apart later and invest himself into. Keith is attracted to him… personally. _Very personally_ , if the tent in his jeans is anything to go by, not that Lance is keeping score or anything.

Lance is grinning wide and unabashed now, the smile splitting his face in half with how overpowering it is. He’s on cloud nine, gloating like the cat who got the cream, as Keith drags him toward the back exit with an amount of force that’s entirely unnecessary given that Lance is going to follow him anywhere he goes right about now. 

A couple of Keith’s coworkers turn to stare as they pass the breakroom, Acxa included, but Keith doesn’t spare them a second glance and Lance’s awkward wave is quickly interrupted by Keith dragging him away. It isn’t until they’re stepping out into the midday sun behind the building that they look at each other properly again. Keith, a looming dark figure of annoyance, and Lance a smiling ball of utter and complete contentment. 

Keith only grows more pissed at the sight of Lance’s smirk and it’s maybe the hottest thing Lance has ever seen, sends a thrill through him that he’s not sure anyone else has ever inspired. Who knew it could be so much fun to tease, to push and push until he got his way, until he managed to make a man as unmoving and stubborn as Keith _cave_.

“I’m thinking I should get my belly button done next, what do you th-” He’s only half-surprised when Keith shuts him up the manual way, clamping a hand over his mouth. He’s fully-offended though, scowling deeply against Keith’s palm. Hee doubts he makes a very threatening picture, but Keith’s grip relents just the same. Unfortunately, he speaks up before Lance can give him a piece of his mind.

“Go home, Lance. And if you insist on coming back here for any future piercings, make an appointment and make sure it’s on my day off.” Keith sounds particularly exhausted when he makes this request and it’s almost enough to make Lance give it up and stop messing with him. Almost. 

“Should I get someone else to do my tattoos too, then?” Lance asks, knowing even before he says it that it’ll strike a chord. A strike a chord it does, Keith’s face screwing up into something annoyed and bitter, and Lance can’t deny the way he adores every second of it. Keith had never struck him as the possessive type, but when it comes to his art it’s always been a personal thing. 

It does catch Lance off guard when Keith doesn’t offer a response, instead dropping the subject entirely and turning back to the door. He slips back into the building and nearly has the door completely shut behind himself before Lance remembers something important he forgot about. “Wait, I didn’t pay!”

“Everyone pays for piercings up front, what do you mean you _didn’t pay_?” Keith groans, long and low, like it’s paining him to continue this conversation any longer than he absolutely has to. The door is mostly closed, only open enough for his head to poke through. Lance steps forward and attempts to push it open wider, invite himself back inside, but Keith holds his ground.

“They kinda rushed me in to surprise you.” Lance explains. “It’ll only take a second, I’ll-”

“I’ve got it, don’t worry about it.” Keith tells him, dismissive like he always is when it comes to throwing his money around, particularly in Lance’s general direction. And Lance, for the most part, tries to remain just as stoic and impassive toward it as Keith. Only, it doesn’t really work for him, and there’s no hiding how overjoyed he is every time Keith pays for something. It’s quickly becoming a problem, how much he finds himself noticing it, loving it. A sly little grin quirks the corners of his lips and even before he says a word, Keith seems to know what’s coming. “Don’t even say it.”

If Lance had even a shred of self control, he’d probably listen, would bite his tongue and turn the other cheek… but, well, he doesn’t. And the thought of driving Keith crazy is the most thrilling thing he’s ever encountered. It’s his new favorite pass-time, he can’t be stopped now.

“Thank-you, _daddy_.”

And yes, it does earn him a door slammed shut in his face, but the sheer satisfaction of having the final word is _worth it_. He walks away from the exchange with an absolutely feral grin, entirely too proud of himself. He may not have succeeded in fixing things between him and Keith in the sense that things will go back to normal, but he thinks he might like this new dynamic even more.

\--

So, Keith is apparently living with the guy he’s been regularly jerking off to for the better part of his adult life. How does one go about things like normal after learning something like that? It’s fucking impossible, Keith would know, he really made an honest effort of it. In the end, he decided it was simply too hard, and went back to his default methods of avoidance. Can anyone really blame him? When he can hardly look at Lance without hundreds of images flashing behind his eyelids, images of smooth skin and soft lace, of sex toys and pretty pink swollen lips wrapped around them.

It’s enough to make a man lose his mind, he’s sure of it. He’s never considered himself to be a particularly lust-fueled person, he’s never been so horny that it gets in the way of living his life, he’s just not that type of guy. But this entire situation is trying to prove otherwise. He feels like his dick has taken on a mind of its own, as it threatens to get hard every time Lance so much as fucking talks to him. It’s pathetic, and probably creepy, and definitely too risky for him to spend time around Lance when he’s like this and risk him noticing.

So he throws himself into work, makes a valiant effort not to think about it, and hopes he isn’t damaging his relationship with Lance beyond restoration in the meantime.

And it works, or it seems like it does, until he comes back from break one day and finds Lance settled awkwardly against the sleek leather of Acxa’s piercing chair. Then all of his hard work of honing his restraint into something reliable is thrown clear out the window in an instant, an instant of blue eyes blinking up at him, wide and imploring, begging for his attention again. And how the hell is he meant to deny Lance anything now? It was bad enough before, but now?

He hopes that Lance can’t tell, how utterly he’s got Keith wrapped around his fucking pinky finger.

The slightest push and he’ll cave like a house of cards, he knows it, and it’s only a matter of time before Lance does if he doesn’t already. What is he meant to do about that? How is he meant to find his resolve when Lance is always right there, giving him a thousand reasons not to? He’s somehow the unrealistic fantasy man he’d always wanted and the jarringly realistic perfect match that he’d never known he needed. It’s infuriating, that both of Keith’s crushes have now combined into one, and his feelings for both have combined into one and doubled in intensity. 

It makes his life a living hell in the same way it makes it heaven on Earth.

“You ever plan on wearing a shirt again?” Keith comments one morning as he walks into the kitchen, putting all of his effort into schooling his voice into something indifferent. Lance is leaning against a counter, spooning cereal into his mouth, looking generally exhausted. Even after all this time of accompanying Keith on his morning jogs, he never quite caught on to the whole morning person routine, and for the first hour of being awake before noon he always has a zombie-like quality about him.

“No, I don’t think I will.” Lance comments, setting his bowl aside and dedicating all of his energy to watching Keith move around the room. He tries to ignore his audience, stay focused on the task of grabbing a breakfast bar and wrestling Kosmo into his harness. “They’re sensitive, Keith. A shirt would only hinder the healing process.”

“Pretty sure that’s not what the pamphlet says, but alright.” Keith mutters, straightening up and getting to his feet. He pulls his hair back into a ponytail, and Lance’s gaze feels like a tangible weight as he does it, but he somehow manages not to even risk a glance his way. And it almost seems like he’s home free, like he’ll have an hour’s reprieve this morning like he’s been gifted every morning for the past week while he was actively avoiding Lance. 

Of course, he’s naive to even think it, given their interaction yesterday at the shop.

“Can I come with you?” Lance asks, just as Keith’s hand settles on the doorknob. Some manner of rejection is on the tip of his tongue, but Keith hesitates just long enough that he ends up making the fatal mistake. He turns, looking back at Lance, and from there it’s all downhill. 

Because Lance is so unfairly cute, standing there in workout shorts and nothing else, spandex clinging to his ass like a second skin. And it’s stupid, so fucking stupid, because Keith has seen that ass with nothing covering it a hundred times over, there’s nothing left to imagine... but deep down he feels like he would give _anything_ to be able to see it again. _Including_ torturing himself with Lance’s presence during his morning jog, while he’s supposed to be relaxing. 

Lance crosses the room, toeing his shoes on before Keith has even said a word. “Things are good between us, right?”

“You can come.” Keith says, ignoring the second question as a whole because he’s nowhere near ready to try and approach that topic. He doesn’t wait around for Lance to pull a shirt on, heads out with Kosmo in tow and just expects that Lance will eventually catch up. He’s actually a pretty good runner, considering how much he hates it, complaining loudly the entire time. Especially now that he’s been making a habit of it for a couple weeks, his stamina has grown considerably.

He’s halfway up their road when Lance sprints to his side, panting for breath as he turns to Keith with an absolutely murderous glare. Keith flashes a smile his way, shameless, but he does catch himself slowing his pace so Lance has a moment to catch his breath.

“Are you _sure_ you’re not mad at me?” Lance grumbles, his voice raspy. His hair is unstyled, his shirt obviously worn given the stain near the collar, and when Keith looks extra close he’d have to be blind not to notice that there’s something more than playful challenge burning in those eyes. Lance is genuinely upset with him, though he’d never dream of expressing as much in a serious way. Keith sighs.

“I’m not mad at you, Lance.” Keith informs him, tone even, honest. The last thing he wants is for Lance to blame himself for Keith’s behavior. As far as he’s concerned, Lance has done absolutely nothing wrong, has been far more communicative and nice about this whole thing than Keith probably deserves. “I just have a lot going on right now. Sorry if I’ve come across as mean.”

“No worries. I didn’t really mind it, just wanted to make sure I hadn’t upset you.” It’s such a typical Lance thing to say, dismissing all of his own emotions to worry about another’s. Keith can’t help it, he acts without thinking, throwing his arm out and clapping Lance on the back. His touch lingers, arm settling there, loosely draped around Lance’s shoulders.

“Well, you haven’t.” Keith assures him, tone taking on a softer element. Lance looks over at him from beneath the curtain of his eyelashes, a shy little blush burning bright on his cheeks. Keith feels compelled to kiss it off, even catches himself leaning closer, but luckily he manages to stop himself before it crosses a line he can’t come back from. Lance is still watching him after though, after he bounces back and drops his arm, trying to appear entirely unaffected.

“You need to get laid or something though.” Lance blurts.

“Excuse me?”

“Well, you’re just really crotchety lately. It might help you cool off, take care of some stress.”

“I didn’t _ask_ for your input, Lance.” Keith all but growls out, and now he’s definitely picking up his pace again, running that little bit faster just to make sure he renders Lance breathless in time to interrupt this conversation. He really doesn’t want to talk about sex in general with Lance right now, never has, because his mind is bound to wander to dark corners. But this specific approach hits even closer to home, considering Keith hasn’t been getting off near as much as he used to.

Look, it’s been a couple years since he relied on casual hook-ups and dick appointments to sate his needs, he’s a little too old and a little too tired to deal with all the stress of that now. He can take care of himself and save himself all the effort. It’s just, lately it’s been… infuriatingly difficult to get off. Or rather, he’s told himself that he’s not allowed to get off to Lance’s videos when it’s such a blatant betrayal of trust, which means he has next to no desire to get off at all.

So yeah, maybe he is a little bit more pent up and frustrated than normal, what of it? It’s not Lance’s place to fucking make a comment. Not because it’s his fault, it isn’t, he has nothing to do with it. Even though, indirectly, he has everything to fucking do with it. 

Unfortunately, Lance has his energy back tenfold now, and doesn’t struggle at all to keep up.

“Come on, Keith, don’t get all weird about it. Besides... it wasn’t _really_ input.”

“No? Then what was it?” Keith asks, even though he can tell from Lance’s tone alone that he isn’t going to like the answer he gets. It’s just so easy to play into it, to entertain him when he gets like this, all flirty and coy about it. Keith would have to be a far stronger man to turn his back on that.

“Maybe... an _offer_?” Lance says it like it’s obvious. Like Keith is a fool for not realizing on his own. Only it’s not that Keith hasn’t realized, Lance has been very forward about his intentions, about what’s on the table if Keith felt so inclined as to take him up on it. It’s just that Keith doesn’t want to do anything until he’s certain, absolutely, that this is what he wants. 

He doesn’t want to mess things up with Lance, doesn’t want the fact that he’s Leandro to somehow play a role in his decision, doesn’t know whether he should come clean or take it to his grave that he’s been buying nudes from Lance for far longer than they’ve known each other personally. 

“It’s too early in the morning for you to be on your bullshit already, Lance. Give me a moment’s reprieve, for god’s sake.” Keith tells him, but he chuckles his way through it, and it isn’t long before Lance is joining him with bubbly laughter of his own. 

After that, the rest of their jog is surprisingly normal. It’s actually a bit surprising, how quickly they fall back into routine, how seamless the transition is between flirting and friendly, almost like the line between both is far blurrier than Keith thought, or perhaps altogether imaginary. Is going from friends to lovers really that big of a hurdle to jump? Will it change anything at all? Maybe Keith is getting worked up over nothing.

He decides then and there that he owes it to Lance to come to some sort-of decision, that by the end of the night he’ll have his answer to the question Lance asked over a week ago now.

And he really, really does mean it. Except, evening rolls around, and just when he’s about to go seek Lance out to tell him that he wants to give this an honest and serious try… his phone dings with a familiar notification. Keith tells himself to just clear the notif, not even bother looking at it. It’s an invasion of privacy, a betrayal of trust, and overall just a seedy thing to do to someone you care about without asking for their consent first. Sure, maybe Lance consented by posting it publicly in the first place, but his identity was never a part of that trade-off and Keith can’t help but feel like he’s cheating the system and taking advantage of Lance if he keeps watching his content.

But when he goes to clear it, he maybe catches a glimpse of the title, and then all thoughts of decency and chivalry are thrown out the window.

_Prettybluekitty: FUCKING MYSELF IN MY ROOMMATE’S BED! Full video now available for purchase._

Keith nearly drops his phone.

He clicks on the link. Of fucking course he does, how is he meant to ignore something like that?

And sure enough, when the thumbnail loads across his screen, his own bed is staring back at him, only with one jarring additional feature that he doesn’t remember ever being there before. It’s Lance, so obviously Lance, even with his face carefully held just out of frame. He’s not naked, not in the thumbnail, instead wearing tight black boxer shorts that show off the outline of his hard cock nicely. It’s all very calculated, the entire post, and Keith can’t deny that Lance is damn good at what he does.

Even if that wasn’t his bed in question, he’d be left wanting to buy the video.

As it is, he doesn’t even hesitate to send the money to Lance’s account, like he’s done a hundred times before except with far more guilt this time around. It doesn’t matter. If Lance can cross lines by getting off in Keith’s bed, then surely Keith can cross lines by getting off to the video of it, right?

 _Leandro_ responds almost instantly with the full video in Keith’s messages, some choice flirty words accompanying it. But Keith doesn’t engage, not today, he’s not sure he could handle that while knowing that Lance is the one making all these dirty promises, that he’s only a two rooms away the whole time.

The video is eight minutes long.

It features Lance doing exactly what the title had advertised. He kicks the underwear off pretty early into it, and from that point on he’s left rolling and writhing in Keith’s sheets, quiet moans filtering through the speakers as he fucks himself open on his fingers. He doesn’t use a toy, just works his fingers past the fluttering rim of his hole, until he’s taking four of them to the first knuckle with ease. And though it’s out of frame, Keith knows from the angle that Lance’s head is resting on his pillows, no doubt tossing and turning in either direction while he’s in the throes of ecstasy. 

Keith jerks off to it. Twice. The first time he comes, he’s not even halfway through the video, and he’s maybe a little embarrassed by that despite there being no one around to call him out on it. The second time, he’s had some time to watch through the video in its entirety, to work himself up all over again at a much slower pace. He saturates in it, that go around, eases his hand over himself with a slow and teasing grip, just like how he knows Lance would do it, bastard that he is.

And when he’s coming down from it, panting and gasping in the sheets that he now knows he’s shared with Lance in a very similar state… he thinks about his next move. 

After all, two can play at this game. 

It takes a while to play his hand, all things considered. Keith isn’t going out of his way looking for an opportunity, there are times it slips his mind completely. He’s not in any rush, and he doesn’t have some mastermind plan in store, he just knows that he’s going to follow Lance’s lead from now on rather than shy away from it. He’ll see how far he can push Lance right back, until he caves.

So when Lance flirts, Keith flirts back. When Lance makes jokes about them hooking up, Keith treats them like they aren’t jokes at all. When Lance sits down a little too close to him during a movie and pulls the old yawn-and-drop-an-arm-around-their-shoulders trick, then Keith responds in kind by leaning in close and burying his face into the curve of Lance’s neck with a content sigh.

Is it the most productive method of making his feelings known? Absolutely not.

Is it the most fun? Well, yeah.

Case in example? One Thursday morning, _Leandro_ posts about an upcoming liveshow he’ll be hosting in an hour when his roommate leaves for work, because he’s _so horny he could burst_ . It happens only minutes after getting back from their morning jog together. Lance had immediately excused himself back to his room, which wasn’t all that unusual, but now that Keith is staring the post in the face… he catches himself thinking on it a little harder. Lance had been in a rush, after all, had barely even stopped to say goodbye or wished Keith a good day at work. He _always_ made a point to wish Keith a good day at work.

But then again, Keith had been particularly touchy today, but only because Lance was touchy first. He kept leaning into Keith’s side, kept playfully swatting at him, kept brushing their hands together as they walked. So by the time they ended up settled at one of the outdoor tables at the coffee place, Keith’s patience was already waning, so he didn’t even hesitate to drop a hand between them and settle it high up on Lance’s thigh. It just seemed like the natural next step in their dance. He kept it there the entire time they ate, soothingly rubbing it over Lance’s bare skin, marveling at the softness of it.

Apparently, he’d taken it a bit too far, and possibly worked Lance up to the point of needing a release at the next possible chance. Huh. Shame.

Keith isn’t the type to call in to work. As a matter of fact, he never has, not since starting at the new parlor a year ago. He makes a point to always find a way to show up, no matter what gets in his way, because he values his job too much to ever give anyone the idea he doesn’t. He’s committed.

But he’s also, undoubtedly, committed to messing with Lance. And if he’s right, which he’s pretty sure he is, then he’ll have plenty more opportunities to mess with him if he stays home from work today.

He calls in. Claims to be sick. Ezor, the sweetheart, doesn’t even question it.

He doesn’t inform Lance, figures this next bit will work better if he has the element of surprise on his side. He hangs out in his room for the following hour, lounging around in bed, making it believable that he’s sick if Lance were to happen across him. Except he doesn’t.

The liveshow starts as scheduled as Keith watches the first few minutes from the comfort of his bed, cock half hard in his joggers. Lance has the camera set up in the shower somehow, angled just right to avoid the spray of the showerhead, while capturing almost every inch of his body in frame. He’s beautiful, especially as he plants his hands on the tiled wall and leans over, gives the camera a view of his ass and where there’s a bejeweled toy nestled between his cheeks.

“Fuck, you guys. I had this in all morning.” Lance breathes, shakily, and it’s just barely audible through Keith’s headphones over the steady downfall of water. He watches, utterly invested, as Lance reaches back and wraps his fingers around the base of the plug, teasing it back and forth against his rim without ever fully removing it. Keith licks his lips, near salivating at the sight. He’s not exactly proud of how this game seems to be affecting him just as much as it does Lance. “I went for a jog with my hot roommate, had it in the whole time. By the end of it I was so sensitive, I almost broke down in tears in front of him.”

Keith feels like he could cry right now, as his hands slide under the waistband of his jogging pants and seeks out his cock. He gives it a few idle pumps, not wanting to work himself up too much, too soon.

He watches on as Lance eventually pulls the plug free, shows off how stretched and ready his hole is, presses three fingers into himself slicked with lube. And then he pulls out what has to be the most massive dildo Keith’s ever seen in his life, and it’s enough to have his heart skip a beat in sympathy and admiration alike, as Lance plops the suction-cup base onto the shower wall like it’s nothing at all, like he’s done it a hundred times before. Hell, maybe he has. Maybe Keith’s been sharing a shower with him this whole time unknowingly, oblivious to the fact Lance makes a habit out of fucking himself stupid against the wall with a fake cock.

Something hungry burns inside Keith at the thought, and he finds himself scrambling to his feet before he’s really thought it through, unable to wait any longer. He keeps his phone on him, keeps watching the stream with one headphone hanging and one in his ear, listening just in case. But the closer he gets to the bathroom, the more obvious it becomes that Lance isn’t going to catch him, isn’t going to overhear a damn thing with how loudly he’s moaning. 

It’s so, so much louder in person than it is through the low quality mic of Lance’s outdated phone. It should be a crime, in Keith’s opinion. All these people that pay for Lance’s content are missing out and they don’t even know it yet. It makes Keith want to buy him a proper camera, one of the really nice ones.

By the time Keith comes to a stop outside the bathroom door, Lance has worked his way up and is sliding the head of that silicone cock through the mess of lube between his cheeks. Keith puts his plan on pause for a moment, makes time to watch as Lance starts to work his hips back against the toy. Inch by inch disappears into his body and the noises that filter through the one headphone Keith still has in his ear are lackluster at best, but now that he can hear Lance in person through the door… it’s an ethereal experience. Every noise he makes is so crystal clear, so close, Keith feels drawn in like a sailor to a siren.

He waits until Lance has the toy fully seated in him, has started to impatiently rock his hips against it, before he knocks against the door with a few heavy raps of his knuckles. Loud. Loud enough that they’re audible through the video playback.

“Hey, you in the shower?” Keith calls, careful not to use his actual name, painstakingly aware of how many other people are overhearing the conversation right now. Discreetly, Keith glances down at his phone in his hand, watches in live time as Lance reacts. The way his entire body goes rigid, freezes in the middle of rolling back against the cock stretching him open. His face is, frustratingly, out of sight from the camera angle… but Keith has an advantage over everyone else watching, knows Lance well enough that he can just about picture his exact expression right about now.

“Keith?!” Lance’s voice is impossibly high, panicked, flustered in a way he’s not usually known to be. And Keith drinks it in like a man dehydrated, grinning devilishly from the other side of the door. He wonders how he’s never done this before, by accident, walked in on Lance in the middle of filming for his porn blog. It’s an utterly missed opportunity, if you ask him. He wishes he’d done it a hundred times over.

“Um, yeah, what’s up?” He’s never been a particularly good actor, but he’s betting on Lance being just panicked and turned-on enough to not read into it too much. Like a shitty intro to a porno, no one really pays attention to the specifics when they’ve got one thing and one thing only on their mind.

“What are you doing home?!”

“I’m sick. Couldn’t make it to work.” Keith calls back, leaning against the door to make sure his voice carries without raising it enough to rouse suspicion. “I really need to piss, can I come in for a second?”

“Uh, well…” Lance trails off, sounding uncertain. Keith watches his phone, watches the way Lance shifts awkwardly around in the shower, almost pacing. His hand falls to his cock and he visibly squeezes it, trying to get himself under control. But even through the camera lens, Keith can see the way pre-cum beads up at the tip in response. “You can’t go outside?”

“Dude, our neighbors have a full view of our yard, we live in downtown-” Keith had no intention of actually saying the name of their neighborhood while Lance was live, but luckily Lance cuts him off before Keith has to come up with an excuse to cut himself off.

“Okay, okay! Give me a second! I’m coming!” Lance calls, urgent, no doubt panicked at the thought of what Keith could reveal. At that point, Keith expects the video feed to cut out. He watches as Lance’s body turns toward the camera, hesitates, like he’s about to reach out and turn it off. Only… he doesn’t. He seems to change his mind at the last second, then turn away and pull the shower curtain back. 

Keith hastily tucks his phone into his pocket when he hears the door unlock, but Lance doesn’t open it right away. The quiet padding footsteps follow a second time, then the shower curtain screeches as it’s yanked closed, and only then does Lance call out an invitation to him. “Come in!”

This is the part that Keith hadn’t really thought through. The amount of restraint it would take to walk into the steam-filled bathroom, knowing full-well that Lance is completely naked, stretched and loose and horny behind that thin curtain… Keith has to stop himself from staring that direction more than once, as he ambles into the room and hastily pulls himself out of his pants. It’s not the easiest thing in the world, trying to piss and aim when your cock is mostly-hard in your hand, but Keith’s willing to attempt it for the sake of realism.

He dearly misses his phone screen, wishes he could see what Lance was up to right now on the other side of that curtain. Was he touching himself again already, unable to wait? Was he trying to sneak a glimpse at Keith? Had he turned the video off after all, figuring it an invasion of Keith’s privacy?

“Make it quick, before all the hot water runs out.” Lance barks, abruptly, and it’s enough to startle Keith’s stream into starting.

“Yeah, I won’t be long.” Keith assures him, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat. Slowly, almost hesitant about it, his eyes flickering to the right and study the shower curtain. He can’t see much of anything through it, just the vaguest of outlines, but it sends a thrill through him all the same. He thinks he might even be able to see where Lance has his phone perched for a camera. 

It’s only because he’s actively watching and aware of exactly where the toy is, that Keith knows what’s happening when Lance’s silhouette moves to the middle of the tub and leans forward. He doesn’t hear it, doesn’t see it, and there’s no realistic reason for him to know about it at all… except that he does.

Lance is taking the toy inside of himself again, stretching his ass open around a toy cock while Keith is in the same fucking room. He’s a pervert. But no more than Keith is, probably, for initiating this in the first place. Maybe they’re more evenly-matched for each other than either one ever could have guessed going into this.

Without thinking, Keith inhales sharply. The strong scent of strawberries fills his nostrils and it’s heady, enough to make his vision spin. Because it smells like Lance, but so much stronger than the amount of the scent that manages to cling to his skin and hair once he’s toweled-off after his shower. But it also smells like Leandro, and he’s only wondered a million times over what that might smell like, wished endlessly that there was a way he could find out. Now he knows. “Your shampoo smells nice.”

“Uh, thanks?” Lance sounds tense, for good reason, probably worried about Keith catching on to what he’s doing right now. Keith tilts his head back, stares toward the ceiling, shakes the final few drops of piss from his cock. Meanwhile, Lance’s breaths are growing more labored, audible above the fall of the shower water. Keith grins to himself, entirely too pleased. “Fuck, Keith, can you hurry it up? The water’s getting cold.”

“Almost done.” Keith says, or rather lies, given that he’s already finished. Lance just sounds so wrecked, so strained, like he’s using every bit of self-control he has to keep from making the same loud and needy noises from before, Keith’s presence be damned. Keith savors the few seconds he’s bought himself, inhaling Lance’s scent, watching the subtle shifts of his shadow as he fucks back against his toy, as shameless as ever. 

Eventually though, Keith is forced to walk away, given the only other option is to climb into that shower with him and fuck him proper right there for the camera to watch. “Thanks, I really needed that.”

“Mhm, no problem.” Lance sounds so shaky, that if circumstances were completely different and Keith still didn’t know the truth, he’d be asking questions and getting curious about what was going on. As it is, he decides he’s tortured Lance and himself alike well enough for now. He tucks himself away, heads for the door, and makes sure to close it loudly behind himself.

He makes it all of three steps before he’s pulling his phone out, hurrying to open the stream back up.

Right away, Lance’s voice filters through his headphone, light and airy. It’s quiet though, so quiet that in real life, Keith can’t hear it from the short distance down the hall he’s traveled. “-was a close one, you guys. Imagine if my roommate had found me like this, all slicked up with this cock shoved deep inside me. What do you think he would have done? Bet he would’ve pulled the curtain aside and climbed in here with me, fucked me hard against the tiles to show me what a _real_ cock felt like. Mm, fuck, you guys would’ve been able to see it all live on camera, like the dirty fucking perverts you are.”

Keith isn’t exactly proud to admit that he doesn’t make it back to his room. He slumps against the frame of Lance’s door and shoves a hand down his pants, jerks himself with a pace that’s downright feverish, the slap of skin audible to his own ears in a way that sends shame rushing through him. There’s no way Lance can hear it though, from the other side of the house and in the shower, but still Keith feels exposed being out in the open.

When he comes, it’s with a groan of Lance’s name. His real name, not Leandro. He thinks Lance rolls off his tongue much nicer, thinks he could get used to saying it in contexts such as these.

Things continue much the same after that. It’s a constant game of back and forth, the stakes constantly upped, until they’re both blatantly playing with fire and refusing to back down. It’s only a matter of time now before one of them gets burned, and it’ll be when the other snaps so hard that he takes them both down together. A part of Keith can’t deny that he’s looking forward to it.

He looks forward to it more and more with every fucking post from “prettybluekitty” that he’s forced to endure over the following couple weeks.

_Prettybluekitty: Ugh, I’m so broke this month. If anyone wants any custom pictures or videos commissioned, shoot me a message and I’ll take care of you._

_Prettybluekitty: I need a sugardaddy so fucking bad. Look at how cute these panties are!! [link attached]_

_Prettybluekitty: I want a dildo with a knot so fucking bad :( Anybody want to throw this sweet little puppy a bone? ;))_

_Prettybluekitty: Hey, my birthday’s only a couple months away… dropping my wishlist in case anyone wants to buy me an early gift. I’ll make it worth your while._

Keith is a man of weak impulse control… so, once or twice a week, he starts going through Lance’s wishlist and just buying him gifts. It’s fine, it’s all anonymous anyway, so he’s definitely not giving Lance the upperhand in the game they’re playing. Lance is none the wiser, though he’s certainly cheerier, practically exuding happiness every day that a package arrives in the mail. It does the opposite of sating Keith’s curiosity, only makes him want to buy _more_ gifts.

It gets out of hand quickly. But it’s not Keith’s fault, necessarily, given that Lance is a terrible instigator in all areas of life and this is certainly one of them. From the very first package Redwolf19 sends him, _Leandro_ amps the flirting up to unprecedented levels, until he’s borderline sexting Keith at every hour of the fucking day. Making promises for videos featuring all the toys Keith buys him, offering to indulge and feature kinks of Keith’s choosing, giving him graphic descriptions of just how much he loves everything Keith buys him. He’s terribly good at convincing people to spend money on him.

Not that Keith is in danger of going bankrupt or anything, given his massive savings account. He’s put away all the money he’s ever made from brand deals and big events, lives off of only his regular wages and even then has extra on hand at any given time. He doesn’t really feel a loss in spending all his money on Lance, especially not when the rewards are so obvious. Obvious in the way Leandro sends very thankful, very private messages to Redwolf19. Obvious in the way Lance sings and skips around the house in brand new clothing, showing it off like fine robes and jewelry, begging Keith to compliment him on it (and Keith does, because he’s weak, and he thinks he might have a kink for seeing Lance dressed up in clothes that he paid for, so he has nothing to lose in indulging him).

One morning, three packages show up on their doorstep at once, and the postman makes a harmless comment about Lance having a secret admirer. Keith overhears the exchange from the kitchen, chokes on his coffee when Lance proudly informs that postman that his admirer isn’t a secret at all, just loves to spoil him.

It’s at that point that Keith decides it’s fair game to address it in person, fish for a reaction.

“What’s with all the packages lately?” He says, as Lance walks back into the room toting today’s latest finds. Keith isn’t even entirely sure what any of it is, he’s bought so much recently, and it’s not like he can keep track of what Lance has already received and what he hasn’t. Lance doesn’t even pause at the question, just smiles wide in Keith’s direction, like he’s overjoyed to have a chance to brag. True to form, the little shit. And maybe, just maybe, Keith is looking forward to hearing him say it, seeing the thankfulness and appreciation in his eyes, and having it all directed at him like he deserves.

“You noticed, did you?” 

“Hard not to.” Keith muses. “You were short on rent this month, so I assume you’re not buying yourself all this shit. And unless you parents recently won the lottery, I can’t see why they would be sending you this much. I can’t really parse together who you have spoiling you like this.”

“Jealous?” Lance counters, eyebrows wiggling. And Keith isn’t sure whether he’s implying he should be jealous of Lance for receiving the gifts, or jealous of the man being privileged with sending Lance gifts, but either way it’s strangely ironic. Keith just rolls his eyes at him. 

But then Lance suits him with a serious look, a serious tone, and it catches him completely off guard during their laid back lazy morning. “Look, can I be honest with you?”

Does… Lance… know? Keith hopes the apprehension isn’t showing on his face already. He knows he’s jumping to conclusions in assuming that Lance could know. There’s no way. It’s completely anonymous. The website promised him, time and time again, that there was no way Lance would ever be able to trace the gifts back to him. 

Ignoring his anxiety, Keith forces a grin.

“I’d love nothing more.”

“I run a porn blog.” Lance tells him, straight, without so much as a hitch or crack in his voice. It’s entirely underwhelming, the reveal Keith has been working up in his mind to be something huge and crucial to their relationship. Lance just comes out and tells him, with no preamble, no awkwardness really at all given the circumstances. Keith stares in silence, unsure what to say. Lance fills his silence easily enough, not at all phased. “These are gifts from my followers. They’re mostly sex toys, I won’t lie to you.”

“Huh. That’s… very honest.”

“Yeah.” Lance grins, and it isn’t even flirty in the slightest. He isn’t using this as a chance to show off, to be a braggart, to try and be sleazy and weasel his way into Keith’s good graces. He’s just informing him, straightforward and honest, like a friend would tell a friend about any other job. “You in the market for any? I have dicks to spare, Keith.”

“How generous.” Keith mutters, but Lance keeps staring at him and he’s forced to address it sooner rather than later if he doesn’t want to raise suspicions. “You’re serious?”

“God, yeah, look, let me open this one.” Lance hauls a box up onto the counter, jabs a knife through the tape with such carelessness that Keith jumps to his feet to try and assist him, only to be swatted away as Lance pulls the box open anyway. He sifts through it, shows off his finds to Keith like they aren’t various vaguely phallic-shaped monsteresque sex toys. “Bam. That’s three dildos in one box alone, and there’s about ten boxes. I think I’m stocked on dicks, going by that logic. So, if you need any, say the word.”

Keith is… still struggling to catch up. He can’t believe that Lance told him at all, let alone voluntarily, and it’s completely thrown him for a loop more than anything else has. Lance is really that cool with all of this, or does he just trust Keith an overwhelming amount? Is this some crucial step for them, or does Lance just act like this with everyone?

“I think I’m good, but thank-you for the offer. I’ll come to you if I ever change my mind.”

“Absolutely. Say the word.” Lance dismisses him with a wave, but it’s completely casual, he doesn’t make a joke out of it at all. Keith watches him warily, Lance eventually meets his gaze with another grin, open and earnest. Almost expectant, like he’s still waiting on Keith to have more of a reaction. “Oh, come on, you’re allowed to laugh. I know it’s ridiculous, but it pays the bills, and it pays them well usually. I can’t complain. World’s funnest job.”

“And so the nipple piercings were-”

“Yeah. For this guy that’s been buying my nudes for like, a decade. Okay, probably not quite that long, but close to it. You’d be surprised how many dedicated customers there are in a business like this. I have a subscription service where people pay a monthly am-”

“Did he like them?” Keith really hopes he isn’t being too obvious about his choice questions right now.

He can’t help it though, he wants to hear Lance talk about him, about Redwolf19. He’s always wondered what Leandro thought of him, and now’s his chance to really know, without any bias or hesitation. 

“The nipple piercings?” Lance questions, and Keith nods with an almost shy hesitance about him. If Lance notices, he doesn’t say it, he just launches straight into the topic at hand. “I don’t know. He hasn’t been online much recently. Dude’s crazy busy, but every now and then he pops back into my messages and I’m always happy to hear from him. He’s actually really sweet, in a pervy way. He’s probably like a sixty-year old grandpa, but whatever, it’s not like I ever have to meet him in person.”

“Not many sixty-year-old grandpas are into body mods.” Keith points out, hoping it isn’t odd if there’s a hint of defensiveness in his tone. Lance just shrugs, stealing Keith’s cup of coffee out from under him and taking a sip. He pulls a face, but then proceeds to drink the rest of it down, so he can’t be too terribly disappointed with what he finds.

“In my line of business, you really don’t wanna get your hopes up and assume they’re hot. They almost never are. It’s always awkward when they send you pics and you have to pretend to be into them.”

“So, you’re not out looking for love?”

“God, no.” Lance shakes his head quickly, without any hesitation. It doesn’t sting like the rejection had, if anything it puts the rejection into perspective and makes it make more sense. Of course Lance wouldn’t trust any random person that approached him through his blog. At the end of the day, no matter how much Keith always felt like he knew Leandro, he didn’t. That much is clear by the fact he spent a couple months living with him and never even noticed. “I get propositioned twenty times a week to meet up in person, sometimes with five figure offers attached to it, but I would never. It’s too risky, there are better ways to meet people, and it’s just an unhealthy foundation to start any nature of relationship on. I respect my clientele, I appreciate all that they’ve done for me, but I don’t feel anything personal toward any of them. I don’t know them. And no matter how much we talk, there’s no way of knowing that anything they say to me is really them.”

“Huh.” Keith breathes, tapping his fingers against the countertop, thinking about it further.

“And now that everything’s on the table, let’s talk about schedule.” Lance says suddenly, leaning into his space. Keith simply watches him, lips quirking with amusement. “I’d like to have Tuesday nights and Friday nights to myself. You can hang-out in your room with noise-canceling headphones on, or go out with friends, or go for a really long walk. I don’t care. I just need that time for my actual job.”

“That’s reasonable.” Keith agrees instantly, because it is. He definitely doesn’t mind making himself scarce those nights, doesn’t mind giving Lance whatever he needs and asks for. He doesn’t really ask for much, aside from the material things in life, so Keith is more than happy to accommodate him any way he can. Besides, he knows Lance’s work is more complicated than it appears from an outside perspective, no matter how Lance tries to dismiss it as easy. A lot of work goes into curating your content, interacting with fans, moderating your persona, managing your own finances as you run your own business. Lance should give himself more credit.

“Thanks. I knew you’d be cool about this. Way cooler than Hunk was when I told him.” Lance lights up, moving around the counter to drape himself over Keith’s back. And Keith lets him, just smirks as he finishes up his bagel, distantly wishing he still had coffee to go with it. “I’m working on saving up for a storage locker or something, but for now it is what it is.”

“Uh-huh.” Keith nods, eyeing the instant coffee mix on the counter and wondering if he should make another one. Lance only really drank a third of his at most, but Keith is still thirsty. It’s his day off, so it doesn’t really matter, it’s not like he needs extra energy right n-

“You’re not judging me, right?” Lance’s voice cuts through his thoughts. It’s small, murmured against the uppermost notch of his spine through his shirt. Keith furrows his eyebrows together, debating his options, weighing them in his mind. And then he throws all of his conclusions to the wind, pulls away from Lance to spin around on his breakfast stool, facing him instead and pulling him into a hug.

“No, I’m not judging you.” Keith reassures him, tone serious, completely honest. “You can make your money however you want, my opinion on it doesn’t really matter. But for the record, I’m supportive, and honestly… I’m impressed. You’re a real entrepreneur, paying for a house this nice with a self-made and self-run business. That’s no small feat, and definitely not something to be ashamed of.”

“Thanks, Keith.” Lance grins, leaning back from the hug to look him in the eye. He looks undoubtedly warm, from head to toe, eyes soft with affection. Keith feels like he could get lost in those pools of blue and drown. “You’re a good guy, you know that?”

Needless to say, Keith does _not_ stop buying Lance gifts after that exchange.

Granted, he does try to start buying him things that _aren’t_ dildos. It’s difficult, given that Leandro’s entire wishlist is limited to sex toys and lingerie, but Keith does his best to pick the most practical or exciting things out. He can’t help but wish there was more variety, that Leandro had a separate for clothes he wanted, make-up he wanted. Maybe he’ll have to pitch the idea to Lance, in the most unsuspicious way possible, just to inspire the change he wants to see in the world.

They’ve been talking about it more. All of it, really. Lance has no qualms about opening up to Keith now, sharing this new part of his life, introducing him to the entirely new world that is sex work. Lance knows a lot about it, knows the answer to every question Ketih thinks to ask and then some. He seems relieved to have someone to talk to about it and Keith is far from minding, so he lets Lance chat his ear off. He learns the names of all Lance’s regular clients, Redwolf19 included, and learns a basic description of all their kinks rather than first names.

He feels closer to Lance than ever. It’s like he’s discovered the final missing piece to their relationship and suddenly they fall together seamlessly. They spend all their nights together, making up for lost time while Keith was wimpishly avoiding Lance. 

Tonight is no exception.

They’re sitting in the living room watching horror movies that Lance keeps picking out and they’re absolutely terrible, but Keith can’t help but admire the effort of Lance trying to pick things that Keith would like rather than his usual romantic comedies. Though, one of these days Keith is gonna have to admit to him that he definitely prefers romantic comedies over bad jumpscares, even if it totally shatters the hot bad boy persona he’s got going for him in Lance’s eyes. It’s a sacrifice worth making.

Lance, the bastard, is settled stretched out across the entire couch while Keith stays squished right into the armrest. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, Lance had volunteered Keith’s lap as a pillow, settled his head there while he stares over at the screen. At first, Keith had been so tense, he’d almost wanted to bolt. But eventually he’d settled into it, dropped a hand into Lance’s hair and started petting him as if he were Kosmo. The dog looks particularly murderous in the corner of the room, longingly watching their cuddling, and Keith makes a mental note to give him an extra treat later.

Besides him, Keith’s phone dings with an incoming text. He doesn’t even have to glance down, but he does anyway, staring at where Lance has his nose practically pressed to his phone screen. He claims to be watching the movie whenever Keith asks, but it’s very clear he’s trying to avoid the scary parts, which means every single part by Lance’s standards. Keith reaches down, pings him on the forehead.

“Was that you that texted me?”

“Yeah, look at it.” Lance demands, reaching right back up and pinging Keith on the chin. He grumbles all the while, but he does reach over and grab his phone, opening it up. Lance sent him a link to some manner of strange shopping website. He’s gotten with the picture enough by now that it doesn’t surprise him when he realizes it’s a sex toy site, but it does surprise him slightly that he doesn’t even recognize the thing on the screen. It’s a big black… box? With a cock strapped to it?

“What… is it?” Keith asks, reluctant as he is to admit he doesn’t know. Lance loves to lord things like that over his head, adores the fact that he’s more educated than Lance in matters of sex. 

“A sybian.” Lance informs him matter-of-factly. Keith blinks. Lance takes it upon himself to elaborate, almost like he can read Keith’s mind and sees all the questions he’s too nervous to ask. “You sit on it. It’s like a vibrator on steroids. The whole thing shakes like a washing machine underneath you. It’s like, the closest thing you can get to getting fucked without actually getting fucked.”

Keith hums curiously, taking the time to look at the ad properly. It sounds like an intriguing prospect for a future gift for Leandro, but then Keith can’t help but take note of the price. He’s not usually one to balk at things, but this has him second-guessing, staring blankly at his screen.

“It’s almost thirteen-hundred bucks. For a glorified dildo.” Keith deadpans, disbelieving. “At that point, just go on Grindr and get _actually_ fucked. Jesus.”

“You’re not even a little bit curious about it? If it lives up to the real thing? For that price, it has to be good, right?”

“Sometimes, Lance, things are just overpriced.”

“You’re so boring.” Lance whines, going back to scrolling through something on his phone. Keith’s eyes flick up and watch as another senseless murder plays out on their screen. It’s a long moment later that Lance speaks up again, apparently still caught up on the same topic. “I’m gonna see if there are any sugar daddies out there who will buy it for me.”

“Whatever. I doubt it.” Keith dismisses easily. And if his tone is the slightest bit spiteful, no one has to know but him. It sends a strange burst of possessiveness through him, thinking that someone else would get Lance something so expensive when it’s his job to take care of him. Still, Lance can’t know that, doesn’t know that, so Keith tries to remain impassive. “Giant waste of money.”

“A real daddy doesn’t care if it’s a waste of money, they buy it just because their baby asked for it.”

“And _you’re_ the expert on this?”

“I have more experience than you do, you’re like the most vanilla guy I know.” Lance counters in that snide little tone of his, leaning his head back further into Keith’s lap so he can make eye contact while he sticks his tongue out at him. At that, Keith snatches his phone out of his hands, partly in reprimand, partly out of curiosity. Lance screeches. “Hey!”

“I wanna see the kinda shit they say to you.” Keith explains, but he doesn’t immediately start scrolling through Lance’s phone, he hesitates and drops his gaze back down to Lance’s, seeking permission. Lance seems to relax at that, like all Keith had to do was ask. “Can I?”

“Go ahead.” Lance tells him, before settling in to watch the end of the movie he hasn’t been paying attention to since he put it on. He doesn’t even make an effort to watch Keith’s reactions, doesn’t try to cover up any of the undoubtedly damning content he’s posted featuring Keith… as well as Keith’s _furniture_ . It’s almost like he _wants_ him to see it, is fishing for a reaction, and isn’t that thought enough to bring a smirk to one’s face?

Keith leans back against the cushions, gets himself comfortable as well, and settles in for the long haul. He’s always been curious about the behind the scenes of what Leandro, or rather Lance, does.

Almost immediately, his curiosity is sated and he decides he never wants to ask questions again. The behind the scenes aren’t nearly as pretty and put-together as Lance presents himself on his blog. But maybe that’s what he gets for immediately diving into Leandro’s private messages.

_Greg54956: Whore. I messaged you half an hour ago and I didn’t get a response yet. If you want my money you’ll be a good bitch and reply. Now._

_EmperorZarkon: double penetration video. $5k._

_Sugardavid: I’m not paying $50 for a fucking picture. I’ll give you $20 and that’s it. Take it or leave it._

“Are they _all_ assholes?” Keith finds himself asking, unable to stop himself from letting the protectiveness show in his voice. It’s not that they’re all terribly rude about it, just very demanding by nature, like Lance is a service to be used rather than a person. It unsettles Keith to his core.

“Most of ‘em. You kinda gotta sort through to find the ones that are actually serious.” Lance explains, shifting up into a sitting position and leaning his head on Keith’s shoulder so he can see the phone’s screen at the same time. “A basic rule of thumb is that anyone with a bunch of numbers at the end of their name is a fake, trying to scam newbie sugarbabies into giving them credit card info.”

“Must be hard to deal with this kinda treatment all the time.”

“Meh. It doesn’t bother me anymore.” Lance mumbles around a yawn, as if to attest to how utterly unbothered he is by the entire thing. “Sometimes, if they lead into it a little better, I can get into it.”

“Really? Insults and derogatory terms? You struck me as more of a praise guy.” Keith realizes even as the words are slipping past his lips carelessly, that he’s probably making a mistake. Not that he’ll regret it, but he’s definitely giving Lance fuel here to use against him in their back and forth flirting competition.

“Wasn’t aware that I struck you as anything, Keith.” Lance grins, leaning into his space even further, brushing those tempting pink lips across the hollow of his throat as he speaks. Keith shivers and he knows that Lance notices it. “Have you been _thinking about_ this?”

“Doesn’t take much to get you riled up, does it?” Keith grumbles under his breath, placing a hand in the center of Lance’s forehead and shoving him gently backward, prying him off like an unwanted mosquito when in reality everything in him is begging to pull him in closer. Lance is pouting at him from across the couch now, so Keith tosses his phone aside carelessly and turns all of his attention back to him. “The slightest show of interest and you practically throw yourself at me. Maybe they’re right, maybe you are a _whore_.”

“I can be anything you want me to be for the right price.” “I’m flexible like that.”

They stare each other down for a while, an easy smile on Lance’s lips that takes on a wolfish quality in the flickering lights of the television screen. Keith ends up giving in, in his own way, and leans back to make space for Lance in his lap again. And he comes crawling back without any hesitation, like he has a claim on the spot, with more confidence than even Kosmo dares to.

… And maybe Keith’s bank account is missing an extra thirteen hundred dollars the next day. He clicks right on that stupid link and buys it without even bothering to look at his cart or the price, just instantly approves of the purchase. He has a point to prove. He’s worlds better than any of those other guys that try to message Lance on his other account.

He gets his confirmation email that it arrived, which is strange considering it normally doesn't bother to give him shipping updates, but maybe it has something to do with the amount he’s spent this time around. He doesn’t question it really, because by the time he notices the email, Lance had already posted his video showing off his new toy, and that’s far more worthy of his attention.

Keith makes sure his schedule is cleared when he settles in to watch _that_ particular video.

Better yet, he’s completely home alone, because Lance is over at Hunk’s house hanging out.

He doesn’t have to be quick about it and he doesn’t have to be discreet. He stretches out across his sheets completely naked, bedroom door locked, Kosmo locked out of the room for the time being. The video costs the standard price, but Keith doesn’t buy it right away. His gaze lingers on the thumbnail for a full minute, eyes wide, a smile rolling across his face like an easy wave crashing against the shore. 

Because Lance has filmed the video from behind, giving a good view of where the dildo attached to the machine is working inside of him, yes, but also… showing off his tattoo. It’s now healed, looks shiny and fresh, all of the colors bright and vibrant, and he wears it like a goddamn brand. And Keith knows he shouldn’t feel the surge of pride through his chest at that, the dark possessive feeling of knowing that his signature is on Lance forever… but he does. And it doesn’t help that someone in the comments of the post is pointing it out, dropping Keith’s real name, asking if Lance got his work done by _that famous tattoo artist_ _Keith Kogane_ because he _recognizes the style_.

With that, Keith pays for the video with renewed excitement so strong it nearly makes him lightheaded.

Right from the start it’s clear that this is genuinely Lance’s first time trying it out. He’s apprehensive, spends far longer stretching himself on his fingers than he normally does, making sure he’s thoroughly loose and open before he even attempts to straddle the machine. And when he does, he’s adorably out of sorts about it, even with his face out of frame.

But, eventually, he gets the angle right and commits to sinking down on the silicone cock with a breathy moan that rings loud in Keith’s ears. He watches as Lance settles, until his ass cheeks are flush against the seat beneath him, and he’s scrambling for the remote. Keith can’t tear his gaze away from the long slope of Lance’s back, following it down to the tattoo proudly displayed at the base of his spine. His eyes are so fixated on it, he doesn’t pay attention to what Lance is doing with his hands, and instead gets his update in the form of loud buzzing vibrations audible through his speakers.

Lance’s legs kick out useless on either side of him, his entire body shuddering in shock and pleasure alike as the machine clearly overwhelms him with its lowest setting. Right from the start, his whimpers are a constant background chorus, only interrupted every now and then by the occasional groan or mumbled plea for mercy. He doesn’t even rock back against it like normal, teasing and tantalizing in the way he rolls his body… instead, it seems to be all he can do just to hold on and not shrink away from the onslaught of getting fucked so fast.

He doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, but moves them around all the same, looking to ground himself against the sensation. They end up gripping the front of the machine for support, flailing uselessly through the air and curling into tense fists, and eventually they land gripping his own ass and spreading it wide so the camera gets a clear view of the way the cock is vibrating rapidly inside of him.

Suddenly, Keith wants to retract what he said about it being a waste of money, he’s fairly certain he’s never made a wiser purchase in his life.

Lance really wasn’t kidding when he advertised this, though Keith had automatically assumed he was exaggerating. It really does have a washing machine-like quality, with how rapidly the entire box shudders and lurches between Lance’s legs. Even the cock itself seems to twist and turn inside him, curving inside to fuck Lance at just the right angle to earn those moans that border on being shouts. 

Keith is certain now that Lance must have filmed this this morning while he was at work, because if he’d been home then he definitely would have overheard. Lance is fucking loud, when he’s getting properly fucked and not concentrating on doing the work himself. For all of his reputation, Keith isn’t sure he’s ever been around when Lance had a hookup over, so this is his first time experiencing it in its full glory.

And when he gets close, Lance finally wraps a hand around his cock and starts to jerk himself off in earnest. Up until this point, it’d been standing at attention between his legs, neglected and ignored but not flagging in the slightest with how turned on he was. Even before he gets a hand on himself, there’s pre-cum visibly beading at the tip, and it smears wetly over his fingers and leaks between his knuckles as he pumps himself in his fist.

That’s about the time that Keith’s own desires catch up to what he’s doing, and he doesn’t hesitate to start running a hand over the length of his cock in time with Lance’s. He’s achingly hard already too, just from the visuals he’s been subjecting himself to. He knows he’s getting too close too fast, but he figures Lance can’t possibly last much longer with the way his entire body is writhing in overstimulation.

When Lance comes, it’s with a whimper that sounds suspiciously and wonderfully like Keith’s name.

When Keith comes, it’s with his gaze glued to Lance’s trembling form as he comes down from his climax, riveted by the sight of beads of sweat trailing over the bright ink of his tattoo. Keith finishes harder than he ever has, biting hard on his bottom lip as he imagines what it’d be like to paint Lance’s tattoo with streaks of white, how nicely and sharply they’d stand out against the colors. It’d be yet another way to mark Lance as his, far less permanent but arguably more intimate.

\--

Lance is freaking out.

And when Lance finds himself freaking out, there’s only really one place that he goes.

Thankfully, Hunk isn’t busy, and answers his phone to Lance’s incoming call that morning. He doesn’t even hang up on him when he starts immediately spluttering and screeching nonsensically about sex toys and infuriatingly attractive mulleted roommates that may or may not be buying them. He just takes it, hums along like he understands a word of what Lance is saying, and lets Lance get it all off his chest.

Yeah… Hunk’s a really good friend, has Lance ever mentioned that?

Eventually, though, he calms down enough for the two of them to have something that vaguely resembles a normal conversation. By that point, it’s midday, around noon, and Lance receives a text from Keith during his lunch break that sets him off all over again. But soon, Hunk is caught up to speed, and ready to share his opinions on the matter.

“So, what you’re telling me is… Keith spent over a thousand dollars on a sex toy for you? And he didn’t mention anything about it, he just let the package show up with your name on it and his name on the billing address, like it was nothing out of the ordinary. And you’re somehow still questioning whether he’s interested in being more than friends?”

“No! Well, yes, sort-of. But the point is, I don’t think I was _supposed_ to know it was him.”

“You think he wanted to surprise you? With a sex toy?”

“No! Hunk, are you even listening?! I think he’s been buying me things for a while now. I’ve been receiving all kinds of anonymous gifts in the mail, and I just assumed they were coming from all kinds of different people from my blog. But what if it’s all been Keith? And he knows about my blog?”

“How would he?”

“I told him about it!”

“Well, why the fuck did you do that?!”

“I didn’t tell him to search it up, but he knows about its existence and I assume he knows the name because I let him look at my messages on my phone.”

“So do you or don’t you want him to have seen it? If you wanted it a secret, why would you tell him?”

“I didn’t want it to be a secret, I just… look, we’re playing this game, where we flirt with each other and up the stakes. I just thought it’d be fun, if I told him about it and left the ball in his court, see if he wanted to check it out on his own terms. What better way to find out if he’s attracted to me than see if he searches out my homemade porn, right? But as it is, I don’t know whether he just bought me this one thing because I brought it up to him, or if he’s been the one buying me stuff all along. And it’s not like I can ask, because what if it wasn’t him?! Then what kind of conceited asshole am I, to just _assume_ he checked out my porn?”

“Well, why don’t you film a video, specifically for him, and see if he mentions anything about it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, moan his name on camera or something.”

“And what if he doesn’t look at my blog? Then I’ve just creepily posted a video of me moaning his name.”

“Ugh, fuck, I don’t know! Use the sex toy he bought you and show off your tattoo, like a coy nod to him if he is watching it, but not so obvious that anyone else will think anything of it. Like a ‘hey, I know you’re watching, you stupid stud, get the hint’. Happy? Can this conversation be over now?”

“ _Hm._ ”

The conversation was not, by any means, over. 

Lance had endless questions about Hunk’s idea, found himself seeking out advice and input as he debated the plainest way to give a nod to Keith without being too obvious about it. Hunk was about as understanding as he could be, albeit begrudgingly, and let Lance talk through his ideas before eventually ending the conversation with the knowledge that he had plans of immediately going to fuck himself on camera. They had a special friendship, that much was for sure.

So Lance films the video, tries the sybian for the first time though he’s still a little uncertain about how and why Keith bought it for him in the first place. Maybe it was a mix-up, maybe Keith bought it for himself, maybe he just mixed up the names. He has no idea, all he knows is he’s really looking forward to trying it out, and he loves the idea of Keith possibly seeing the video later if he was the one to buy it.

Lance has always been a show off and a tease, and this is the perfect opportunity to exploit those traits to his favor. He just hopes that he isn’t wrong, that Keith really has been following his blog, that Keith is the one buying him all these gifts. Because if he is… fuck. Lance will just have to suck his dick, he supposes, the very moment he walks through the door after work. He’s not sure how else he could possibly convey how thankful he is, how turned on it makes him, how desperate he is for more of the same treatment.

He’s always joked about wanting to be a sugarbaby to a powerful man or woman, joked in a way that bordered on not being a joke at all. He loved the idea of the lifestyle, of having someone spoil and pamper him, in exchange for companionship or sex. He just had no sweet clue how to break into that scene. All the websites seemed dangerous, filled with fakes and scammers. And it’s not like Lance had a surplus of rich people in his life that he could even entertain in that light.

But Keith… Keith’s probably not a millionaire, but he has money to spare. He has generously and kindly spared it in Lance’s direction countless times before, so is it really such a stretch to think that he might do it again? Might… possibly… like to do it on a regular basis? And if Lance is really, really lucky… with sex promised as a reward?

After the video is posted, Lance is so alight with nervousness by the time that Keith is due home, he finds himself hopping in his car and leaving. He leaves a note on the counter, takes off, and eventually shows up at Hunk’s doorstep unannounced. Hunk lets him in, because of course he does, but he does make a formal request that Lance doesn’t talk about it. It’s a small price to pay, so Lance bites his tongue, even as his mind runs wild with thoughts of whether Keith could be watching the video at any given second.

He does eventually head home, inevitable as it is. And when he gets there, Keith is lounging on the couch, greets him warmly as he comes in. He’s a little bit more amicable than he has been some nights this week, he tells Lance about his day and asks about Lance’s, he’s made them dinner (processed garbage that can be cooked in under thirty minutes, but Lance goes along with it because he didn’t really feel like cooking anything anyway). Anyway, Keith’s in a good mood… but that’s the extent of noticeable oddities in his behavior.

He doesn’t allude to the video, doesn’t give any impression at all that he’s seen it. He doesn’t mention or ask about any packages arriving, and Lance doesn’t offer to tell him. To be perfectly honest, he’s not even particularly flirty compared to usual. He doesn’t give a damn thing away, so either he genuinely doesn’t know, or he has a damn good pokerface.

On the surface, things continue on as normal for them over the following days. Keith has both good and bad moods, Lance flirts and Keith flirts right back in turn, and they resolutely do not mention sex toys or porn blogs once for what must be an entire week. But Lance is a terribly impatient person by nature, and this is no exception, and he’s growing progressively more and more irritated waiting for the next big step between them. 

In the end, he decides to take matters into his own hands. 

Keith is running late for work, running around the house half-dressed with uncombed hair and a toothbrush hanging from his lips. It’s an unusual sight, given Keith is the most annoying morning person he’s ever met, and is agonizingly anal about being on time for things. But, his alarm hadn’t gone off today… because he’d lost his phone.

Or, more accurately, Lance had stolen his phone the night before and failed to inform him of the fact, not realizing that Keith probably used it as an alarm. He does feel immensely guilty about it now, so he offers to make Keith lunch and watch Kosmo for the day. Two less things Keith has to worry about in his rush.

“You’re sure you haven’t seen my phone?” Keith asks him at the last second, just as he’s about to head out the door. And Lance does feel bad about it, but it’s not like it’s a total invasion of privacy. Keith isn’t the type to be private about his phone and if Lance had merely asked to use it, Keith would have let him, but then he wouldn’t have the element of surprise on his side. But in the past, Lance used to steal his phone and Keith would hold his hand out blindly, letting Lance scan his thumbprint and then go about whatever he pleased on the device. It got to the point where he took off the password altogether, to save time whenever Lance decided to steal it.

So it’s not an off-limits thing that Lance is doing, he knows Keith doesn’t care one way or the other, he’s just going about it a backwards way.

“Nope.” Lance says nonchalantly, but just to be certain he’s not inconveniencing Keith majorly, he decides he’d better ask. “Do you need it for something? I can help you look for it.”

And if Keith insisted or even so much as implied he needed or wanted his phone with him, it would have miraculously shown up in the couch cushions and Lance would have handed it over to him. He’s not a monster. He doesn’t want to be a nuisance to Keith. 

“Not really, I just can’t figure out where I would have left it. Keep an eye out for it today. If anything happens and you need to get ahold of me, just call the shop number.” Keith heads for the door, shoves his boots on, then hesitates. He looks back at where Kosmo is settled near the edge of the couch, head settled in Lance’s lap, looking pleadingly up at him. “You sure you don’t mind watching Kosmo? I can take him with me, it’s no trouble.”

“Don’t be selfish, Keith, he deserves time with both of his dads.” Lance scoffs. “We share custody now.”

“Mhm.” Keith turns back to his boots, starts lacing them both up properly. He almost never does this, especially not when he’s in a rush, so Lance can just tell he’s stalling for time. He hardly ever lets the damn dog out of his sight. Without looking up, Keith confirms Lance’s suspicions of where his worry lies right now. “Make sure he behaves himself.”

“He always behaves himself, he’s a good boy.” Lance scratches behind Kosmo’s perked ear and the dog leans into his touch eagerly. Lance is actually quite proud that Kosmo likes him near as much as he likes Keith. It’s a great accomplishment, considering he’s never been particularly good with animals.

“I wasn’t talking to you, I was talking to Kosmo.” Keith says then, and Lance’s jaw drops in mock offense as he whips his head in Keith’s direction. “Someone has to keep you in line when I’m not around.”

“Ha, _very_ funny.” Lance mutters, in a way that makes it clear exactly how funny he really finds it. He sulks a bit, mostly for show, and pats the cushion beside him. Kosmo jumps up onto the couch without hesitation and Lance ignores the way Keith does a double-take. Yeah, yeah, maybe he originally said there was a no pets on furniture rule in this household, but that was before he met Kosmo! He didn’t expect to actually like him!

“You want me to pick up anything on my way home?” Keith asks then, and his voice has gone far softer, fondness creeping into it in a way that Lance can’t help but notice. But even knowing what to expect, when he looks back in his direction he’s blindsided by the warmth in Keith’s dark eyes. It’s a little much for him to unpack right now, so he quickly decides to lighten the mood with a joke.

“Hm… I _have_ been admiring the new iphone.” Lance grins sleazily, winking over at him. Even before the entire sybian scandal a week ago, this had been normal territory for them, joking about Keith’s aspiring sugardaddy behavior. Lance hopes it’s not off limits now, because it was one of the running gags he had the most fun with. Especially when Keith kept fucking buying him stuff, rather than putting an end to it.

“I meant like a bag of chips, you fucking golddigger.” Keith replies, but it isn’t genuinely annoyed as much as its exasperatedly amused. The desired result. Lance’s smile widens even further and Keith blushes before he looks away.

“This is exactly why I _don’t_ behave myself, what’s the point when there’s no reward?”

“Call me if you think of anything you need. I’ll be back later tonight.” Keith says firmly, ignoring the flirty undertone to Lance’s words with a vengeance. Lance shrugs his shoulders, as if he’s willing to let it go, but when Keith doesn’t rush to leave… he keeps rolling with it.

“I’m just saying, think about it. I could have all your laundry done and a meal on your plate when you get home. All for one measly iphone.”

“I think hiring a full-time maid would be cheaper, Lance.”

“Yeah, but good luck finding a maid that looks this good doing it.” Lance responds easily, because really, Keith just set himself up for that one. A look of disbelief passes over Keith’s face, like he can’t fathom how shameless Lance truly is, and then he breaks down and smiles right back at him. “You want me to wear a maid uniform? I can do it, Keith, I need a new phone and I’m willing to stoop that low for it.”

“I’ll think about it.” Keith laughs, shaking his head as he turns away a final time and ducks out the door.

Lance notices that he’s still smiling a full five minutes later, when he finally manages to draw himself out of his lovesick thoughts and back to the moment. He gets to his feet and Kosmo follows along beside him, excited to see where they’re headed. But he only goes to the window, checking to make sure that Keith’s car is gone. And after confirming that it is, Lance digs into his sweater pocket and takes out Keith’s phone, settling in on the couch for a long and thorough _snoop_.

He starts with Keith’s email, does a quick search for purchase confirmation emails. The only one that comes up is the sybian, but when he changes the phrasing a bit to look for ‘money withdrawn’, he gets far more results. Countless results, all of which leading him to a very familiar website. Lance’s grin grows downright infectious, something he can’t be rid of no matter how he tries, as he clicks on the link to his own wishlist. There are enough emails that even just from a glance, Lance can tell that Keith has been the one behind at least the majority of the gifts.

It’s entirely an accident that he discovers anything else, really. He was willing to drop it at that, let things take their natural course now that he had confirmation that Keith at least knew about his blog, had been following it out of his own violation.

He opens the gallery app for entirely innocent reasons, honest, just looking to see if there are any selfies of Keith littered throughout his pictures. Most of them are of tattoos or Kosmo, predictably. He does follow Keith’s instagram, he knows what his content generally is. There are a few rare photos of Keith, all of which taken from terrible angles with tragic lighting, but Lance figures that makes it almost better.

It’s an honest accident that he clicks on the folder of Keith’s downloaded photos and videos, a slip of his clumsy thumb (alright, being honest, he totally clicked on it on purpose, but the results he gets aren’t at all what he expects).

Because it’s an entire album of nudes. For a terrifying moment, he thinks he’s invaded Keith’s privacy terribly, but the realization sets in almost immediately that the skin tone is way too dark. So when he actually looks at the photos, relieved that they’re not of Keith… he immediately realizes who it actually is and feels his mouth go impossibly dry. That’s him. Every single photo… is of _him_.

He definitely recognizes the video most recently saved, there’s no mistaking that fucking sybian that’d given him the most intense orgasm of his life, or the brightly colored tattoo situated in the dead center of the frame (purposely so, given it was meant to be a message to Keith).

And, apparently, the message had been received.

It leaves Lance wondering why Keith never said anything, never reacted, never let on that he’d seen it at all. He gets his answers pretty quickly though, when he starts to idly scroll down and finds that there’s practically no end to the pictures. Hell, the album is as big or bigger than the photos Keith has actually taken on the device. There’s countless. Hundreds, probably. And Lance doesn’t even have to manually check the dates to be able to pinpoint that they span over the past few _years_. 

Years before he and Keith even _met_.

He’s also immediately aware that some of them had to be privately commissioned photos and videos, given he doesn’t recognize them right away, long sent and forgotten about. At that point, he caves and searches through Keith’s phone to find his blog. He has to know, he’s too curious not to. 

For an instant, he wonders if Keith could be some sort of crazy stalker, who knew his identity all along and moved in with him purposely. But, well, he dismisses it pretty quickly. Keith hasn’t done anything to make him uncomfortable, if anything Lance has done more boundary-crossing and pushing. And their meeting had been too coincidental and awkward for it to be planned in any capacity. Especially considering Keith ignored and avoided him for the better part of a year after meeting him, indifferent. If he’d really wanted to be with Lance, he would have been quicker to reach out again.

Probably, anyway.

It doesn’t take long for Lance to find Keith’s profile and immediately drive his point home when he realizes who exactly Keith is. Redwolf19. It… immediately makes sense, actually. It makes a strange and unnerving amount of sense. The guy who’s been with him since nearly the beginning, the one who pays him way more than he dares to ask of anyone else and does it gladly, the one who talks to him like a friend rather than a service worker. Which he is, for the record, he realizes that he’s a person supplying a service and that should be the end of his online relationships if he wants to keep things from getting messy.

But he was young and naive when he first started talking to Redwolf19, and he’d just been happy to have the encouragement and the support. There was a time, when he was barely legal and just starting out, when Keith had first messaged him… that Lance had even entertained a teensy crush on the guy, had romanticized him to be something perfect and dreamy. 

There’s been a lot of years since then and skepticism and failed relationships alike have taught him to expect the worst from strangers, but he’d be lying to say he hasn’t always had a particular soft spot for Redwolf. Clearly, his instincts are better than he ever could have guessed, because if he’s ever met anyone deserving of a soft spot and special treatment, it’s gotta be Keith.

It’s still a little jarring to acknowledge that Redwolf19 who’s been buying his content and supporting him for years is also Keith, who’s been buying him gifts and presents for months now. They’re one in the same and they’re realistically available to Lance. He wonders when exactly Keith made the same connection with Leandro/Lance, what his reaction was.

But the simple fact is, he must know by now. He’s not stupid, Lance literally let him snoop around through his messages on his blog, there’s no way he wouldn’t recognize the name. So Keith knows. Keith is sitting on the information, no doubt overthinking it, debating the proper way to let Lance know that he knows… it’s all a little confusing right now, isn’t it?

Thankfully, the answer is as simple as it gets.

The realization hits Lance about the same time he remembers that Redwolf19 is the one with the pretty cock, the pretty _pierced_ cock. At which point, all bets are off the table, and Lance can’t be blamed for what he does after that. 

He’s always wanted to know what it was like to get fucked by a pierced cock, after all.

\--

It’s been an altogether uneventful shift at work for Keith. His entire day was booked solid with back to back appointments, so there wasn’t much room for unpredictable or exciting. The tattoos themselves were pieces he was proud of, yes, but pieces that were far more simple and straightforward than most things he worked on. Some of it was just silhouette work, without any of the details that he considers to be his style. Of course, it’s what his clients had asked for, and the customer is always right, especially in his line of work where they’re requesting permanent art on their body… but a part of him can’t help but feel cheated that he wasn’t given more freedom to explore their ideas.

So when the first few hours crawl past and he finally sees his most recent client out the door, the relief is tangible. At that point he’s so bored his mind is bouncing off the walls, and so tense and uncomfortable from tattooing for so long that his bones seem to creak in protest with every step he takes. Still, he grabs his things and heads for his car. Some solitude might do him good when he gets like this, all keyed up and frustrated, skin-crawling with the desire to do something. He’s not a joy to be around when he’s in these moods, or so he’s been told.

It’s been worse lately, he can admit.

Today in particular because Shiro had kept him up most the night before on the phone. Keith could have hung up on him easily enough, could have even ignored his calls, but truth be told… it’s nice, in a way, to be needed by Shiro the way he’s always needed the other man. He likes that he can comfort Shiro through his anxiety and panic right now, even if he isn’t so keen on the whole baby idea. He knows that it means a lot to Shiro, that it’s going to make him happy in the long run if he can just survive the panic of waiting for the rugrat to arrive. 

Only one month left. Keith knows, because that’d been the reason behind Shiro’s call. They had one month left before their lives would be changed forever and Shiro was feeling woefully unprepared. It’s kind of cute, how much effort he’s put into studying, from parenting books to product reviews on every single thing he’s put into the nursery. He’s committed to it, cares a hell of a lot more than most parents, and that’s why Keith knows he’ll be okay in the long run.

Keith just wishes he would talk to Adam about his panic instead. He seems to think that he’s alone in being afraid, in feeling underprepared, that he’s somehow lacking when in reality it’s completely normal. And if he’d only brave asking Adam, Keith is sure that they’re both in the exact same boat waiting for this baby to arrive. There’s no way Adam is actually as cool and composed as Shiro seems to think he is. He may be better at presenting himself, but Keith has known him long enough to know that he’s probably calling his family every night too, begging for advice and an outlet to whine to.

Keith wonders, absentmindedly, if he should make a point to intervene and meddle in their business, convince them to open up to each other about their anxious thoughts around the whole thing. It’s always worked out well in the past, forcing them together by any means necessary until they figure their shit out. Keith likes feeling needed, but he doesn’t like losing sleep, and he doesn’t like the idea of this lack of communication driving a wedge between them… especially when they should be closer partners than ever now, taking on a commitment as big as the one they are. He doesn’t want to see it put a strain on their relationship, not when they’re clearly so happy together. 

Oh, if Shiro could read his mind right now… he doesn’t even want to think about it. He’d never hear the end of it, he’s sure. And he doesn’t want them to get the wrong idea, that he’s _excited to be an uncle_ . He isn’t. He really isn’t. Shiro may be good at that whole rolemodel bit, but Keith isn’t, and the thought of influencing another person terrifies him. He doesn’t want to be the one to blame if Shiro’s kid turns out to be a loner, a rebel, a _biter._

To make matters worse, Shiro had made a point to tell Keith all about the latest plans for the baby shower. Which was fine, really, Keith relented months ago to the fact that he’d have to attend the event, would have to actually meet their surrogate and bring a fucking gift basket of diapers and binkies. He’d come to terms with it, unenthusiastic or not, he was going. He just… hadn’t expected Shiro to tell him to bring _Lance_ with him. That he wants to _meet him properly_.

Which is stupid, they’ve met a hundred times before, they’ve even hung-out when Keith wasn’t around due to their mutual friends. But Keith knows what he’s saying, knows that it has more to do with _what_ Keith is introducing rather than who. He couldn’t even deny it, went all flustered and useless at the thought, the implication… and before he’d known how to stop himself, he was reluctantly agreeing to bring Lance with him. 

Which leads us to the second, and truthfully more prominent reason, that Keith is cranky.

The reason he’s _far_ more hesitant to admit because the last thing he wants is to place the blame on Lance in any capacity. It’s not his fault, obviously, none of it is. It’s all on Keith.

It seems a bit immature after all, for it all to come back to the fact he isn’t getting off on the regular anymore. It’s especially stupid given that he has an entire internet chock full of porn to explore, but can’t bring himself to even try anything that isn’t Leandro, or rather Lance. And that’s where the problem lies, isn’t it? Now that he knows who it is, the emotional investment is too high to just reduce him to a sex object. It’s different when he’s messing with Lance, when they’re playing their game together. But he can’t just stretch out and watch any old video, it feels wrong. Even though Lance put himself out there and consented to it, even though Keith paid for the content fair and square, it still feels like cheating him somehow.

If Lance knew what Keith was doing behind closed doors, would he revoke that consent?

Miserably, Keith gathers his things and heads for the door. He hopes to slip out as unnoticed as possible, definitely doesn’t want some antsy customer in the waiting room to spot him on his way out and demand that he sticks around for their appointment. But, there is no getting past Ezor without being noticed. Blessedly, she’s the only one in the waiting room when he does pass through.

“You going on break?” She asks, glancing up from whatever her fingers are typing away against the keyboard. Her glasses slide down the bridge of her nose, settling just above her matching nose piercings.

“Yeah, you want something while I’m out?” Keith offers because he knows he should, not that he really feels like fulfilling any requests or running errands today. But it’s not Ezor that answers him, but rather a familiar grumble of a voice, as a hand settles on his back.

“Coffee. Please. I’m about ready to pass out.” Acxa tells him without hesitation, like he offered. He rolls his eyes, turns to look at her. She looks to be in much the same state that he is. And though he hardly feels like being an errand boy right now, she’s like a sister to him, and he’s not going to leave her hanging. Partly because he cares about her, mostly because he’s scared of what the consequences will be if he denies her.

“You’ve got it.” Keith grins, happy her order was a short and simple one. He turns to Ezor then, slightly less thrilled to see her writing down a list on a post-it note for him. He tries not to sigh aloud when he takes it from her hand, but he doesn’t exactly succeed. He turns to leave, at which point her hand darts out to grab his shoulder.

“Oh, wait!” Ezor beams, reaching into her desk and pulling something out. “Lance stopped by, dropped this off for you. Kosmo near broke his arm, he was so excited to go see you, but I wasn’t about to let him bust into the room over-excited and bouncing off the walls when you were working.”

“Oh.” Keith breathes, gingerly accepting his phone from her hand. Lance didn’t have to come all the way here to drop it off for him, but he is thankful for it. Not so much because he needed his phone, mostly just because of what a thoughtful gesture it is. “Thanks.”

With that, he sets off to retrieve their coffees.

He slides behind the wheel of his car a moment later, pulls his phone out to shoot Lance a quick thanks for bringing it to him. At which point, he immediately drops his phone between his feet, down by the pedals. He bumps his head in his rush to lean over and grab it back up, eyes wide, jaw agape. Because these are his texts with _Lance_ , not his private messages with _Leandro…_ and yet, that photo staring back at him is most definitely Lance’s naked body.

More than that, it’s Lance’s naked body draped in _leather_ rather than lace. It’s one of Keith’s jackets, his favorite one, the one he left at home today only because he’d been running late and hadn’t thought of it until it was too late. He has to admit though, Lance seems to be putting it to better use than he could ever dream of. It stands out sharp against his skin, really frames where his hard cock is standing tall between his legs. Keith also can’t help but appreciate that this is the first nude he’s ever gotten where Lance’s face is in the picture. He’s smirking, eyes dark and filled with intent.

Below the photo is the caption; short and simple and straight to the point.

_Lance: Free of charge this time, Red._

Oh fuck.

Lance _knows_.

The panic sets in heavy and hot, like a wildfire. Keith isn’t sure what to make of the message, looks it over a hundred times for a hidden meaning. Is he upset with Keith? Will he be, once he knows the entire truth? Did Lance just find out? Has he known for a while? How did he find out? How could he possibly have… his phone. Lance fucking snooped through his phone.

And it’s that thought that steels Keith’s nerves, has him calling a familiar number with confidence restored. Because if nothing else, if Lance is only trying to blow up at him for being a pervert and keeping the information to himself, then at least Keith has a card in his deck to play too.

Though he really, really, really hopes that that isn’t the case. He’d rather like for the picture to be exactly what it’s advertised as: an invitation. 

“Yello?” Lance answers on the second ring, though his tone is utterly casual like nothing is out of the ordinary and he wasn’t clearly waiting on the call. Keith takes a deep breath, reeling himself in, practicing self-control in a way he’s never had to do before he met Lance. He doesn’t want to come on too strong, not before he’s heard it in plain terms, in Lance’s voice, that he wants this.

“Hey.”

“Oh, hey. I thought you weren’t off until four?” Lance sounds distracted, but it’s likely rehearsed, and Keith hates how easy it is for him to break into a smile at the thought. Lance is terrible… terribly and infuriatingly easy to love. Keith would know.

“I wasn’t. I’m on break.” Keith tells him. Then, around a shaky breath that trembles the entire way down his throat, he asks the question he really wants to know the answer to. “What are you doing right now?”

“Right now?” Lance drawls, slow and teasing, drawn-out like he’s working a sex line rather than answering a friend’s question. Keith resists the urge to growl in impatience, as he waits for Lance to say it, to give him anything more to go off of. “Reading through some of my old conversations with this guy who follows my blog, Redwolf23 or something. God, Keith, you wouldn’t believe some of the things we’ve talked about over the years. So many kinks to exploit, if only I could meet him in person… What about you? What are _you_ doing?”

“I’m, uh, I…” Keith’s tongue feels heavy in his mouth, he can’t get it to act agreeable, to say a single thing that would make sense. He knows what he should do, knows he should put this whole interaction on hold and give himself some time to think, should go back to work like a decent human being and finish up all of his appointments. That’s not… what he wants to do, though. And Lance must know it, if the intrigued little hum he gives to coaxe Keith into speaking is anything to go by. “I’m coming home.”

“Yeah? What about your appointments?” Lance doesn’t sound concerned. Not at all.

“I’ll reschedule them.”

“Huh.” Lance breathes, slow and easy, like he just knows that every second he draws this out is another second that Keith will be forced to wait to _have him_. Keith can’t back the growl of annoyance, nor can Lance with his answering bubbly giggle. “Well, in that case… you should hurry home.”

“Is that so? Why should I?” Keith snaps, even as he turns his key in the ignition and prepares to drive as fast as the L.A traffic will ever allow him. Lance answers in a quiet hum, like he’s considering his next words carefully, when in reality Keith knows he’s already certain of exactly what to say to rile Keith up most. He’s effortlessly good at that, after all. Always has been, even before he knew Keith personally. A natural talent.

“Well, you see, I’ve been a very good boy... and I’m _still_ waiting on my reward.”

“Fuck.” 

“You gonna give it to me, _daddy_?”

Keith hangs up the phone without another word, doesn’t want to waste another second that he could be spending making his way to Lance’s side. His skin crawls with how impatient he feels, his cock growing hard between his legs the more he thinks about it… and it’s impossible not to think about it.

\--

Lance is playing a dangerous game, but he’s fairly certain that he’s _winning_.

After all, he managed to convince Keith to leave work early, which is a feat easier said than done. And sure, Keith had hung up on him when he tried to tease him, but he’s pretty sure that’s just Keith’s usual lackluster way of communicating his feelings rather than Keith going back on his word. So Lance expects him to show up soon, and he makes the necessary preparations.

Well, actually, the necessary preparations were already made hours ago. Lance stretched himself the moment he got back from dropping Keith’s phone off, unsure exactly how long he would take with his client, how long it’d be before he had a chance to look at his phone. He wanted to make sure the message was there and ready for him when he checked it. So he wasted no time getting his clothes off the moment he got back. Keith’s jacket was actually a last-minute touch when he noticed it draped over the chair, but he ran with it.

He snaps the photo pretty early into it, overeager as he is. He sends it off right away without a second thought and then gets to the part of his plan where all that’s left to do is… wait. The one thing that Lance is absolutely terrible at. His patience wanes quickly and then he’s grabbing for the lube, deciding to prep himself even further for when Keith gets back and keep himself busy in the meantime.

Only, Keith seems to take for fucking ever to reply to him. It has anxiety rising in Lance’s throat and the only means he can think of to distract from it is to fuck himself on his fingers properly, rather than just the most basic stretching to get himself ready. So he works himself up, to the very edge, and then takes a few moments to cool back down. He doesn’t want this to be over before it starts and though he doesn’t doubt that he could go again if he were to come now… a part of him feels compelled to wait, knows it’ll be better that way.

When Keith finally calls, Lance only has to hear the first word out of his mouth to know that he’s definitely on board with the game Lance is playing. He can hear it in the way the word shudders, the poorly-concealed desire leaking through what’s left unsaid. Lance knows that Keith wants him, wants him badly enough to throw caution to the wind and take him. They’ll talk about it later, surely.

But as it is, Lance is ready for Keith to come rushing in and sweep him off his feet, throw him down on the bed and fuck him like an animal. He’s looking forward to it, actually. He feels like he’s waited long enough, anything more would be torture. Keith doesn’t have to waste time with words, he just has to _fuck him_.

By the time he finally hears the front door open and shut loudly behind Keith, he’s been working himself up for over an hour. His wrist is sore, his cock is drooling against his stomach with the need to come, and he’s so far gone that he doesn’t even have it in him to feel ashamed about any of it when Keith comes walking into the room with wild eyes and his shirt already halfway over his head.

“Took you long enough.” Lance taunts playfully, but there’s no real bite behind it, he can’t even pretend when there’s so much blatant relief in his tone. Keith’s predictably silent, eyes glued to where Lance’s fingers are still clumsily fucking into himself, trying to take pressure off the ache for orgasm in his cock and only really working to keep himself hard. Lance watches Keith closely, studies the starved look about him, and makes the call to spread his legs wider in offering. His cock gives a valiant twitch against his stomach, begging to be touched, and Lance ignores it in favor of giving all his attention to Keith.

“Fuck.” Keith whispers under his breath, sounding awed by the sight. Lance preens the slightest bit under the attention, his desire to put on a good show taking precedence over his exhaustion. He fucks himself faster, until the wet squelch of it fills the room. Keith creeps into the room slowly, settling on the edge of the mattress. His hand is light and uncertain when it settles on Lance’s inner thigh, but the moan he receives in answer seems to be all he needs for encouragement, because then he’s gripping harder and digging his nails into the meat of Lance’s leg. “Fuck, baby, _look at you_.”

“I’d prefer you do more than look, if it’s all the same to you.” Lance manages, only interrupted by one breathy whimper when his fingers curl inside of him just right, brushing against the spot where he really needs them. He looks imploringly to Keith afterward, all too aware of how those dexterous long fingers could fuck him so much better than his own.

“You have no idea how long the drive home felt today.” Keith tells him then, because apparently he’s decided that now of all times is the time to be talkative. Lance just pouts at him, fights the urge to remind him that he’s making the wait longer for the both of them. Lance is so ready right now, so far past the point of ready, Keith probably wouldn’t even have to slick up his cock before pushing it into him. 

“Keith.” Lance manages eventually, squirming around in a clumsy demand for attention. But Keith’s hand on his thigh keeps him more or less pinned, which only works to work him up more. His hand comes down, grabs at Keith’s wrist and tries to pry his hand off. Keith doesn’t back off. “What gives? Did you come to stare or fuck me? You’ve done your fair share of getting off to the _sight_ of me, Keith, wouldn’t you rather have me for real? Or are you scared you won’t be able to satisfy me?”

Lance is obviously goading him, but it’s always worked in the past and he’s downright depending on it working again this time. He needs Keith to hurry up and get his clothes off, get in this bed and show him what he’s been missing all this time. Fuck, he can’t wait to see that cock in person, get his hands and mouth all over it, get fucked within an inch of his life with it.

“You’re a brat in bed too, huh?” Keith answers, instead of offering anything productive to the table. He does take his hand off Lance’s thigh and leave him free to move however he pleases though, which is currently just to do a lot of it. He rolls over onto his stomach, immediately starts rutting down against the sheets beneath him, uncaring of how Keith is watching him. “You’re not gonna last once I get inside you, maybe we should get you off now. What do you think? I could use my mouth.”

Keith’s words do strike a chord in Lance, but not in the desired way. Instead, it sends images flashing through his mind of him on his knees for Keith. What better way to get intimately familiar with his piercing than to explore it with his mouth? To shape his tongue around it? To take it to the back of his throat and swallow around it? Suddenly, Lance can think of nothing he wants more, getting off included.

“Mm, or I could suck you. I’ve wanted to get your cock in the mouth since the first time you sent me a picture of it… wanted to choke on it since the moment you sent me the one showing off your piercing for the first time. Fuck, Keith, can I?” Lance asks, lifting his head and blinking dazedly over at him. Now that he’s slightly more clear-headed, he notices the outline of Keith’s cock in his jeans. God, to be perfectly honest he’s not sure how he missed it, given that Keith is _huge_. He has to blink a few times to even be sure that what he’s seeing is real, but sure enough, Keith’s cock is a solid line against his thigh.

Lance shifts on his knees, clambers down the bed until he’s settled next to Keith. Their eyes meet and Lance sees the flash of apprehension for what it is, knows that if he asn’t so damn worked up and horny about it, he’d probably be feeling nervous right about now too. So he shushes Keith, leans in close and settles a hand on his cheek. “Alright, you got me, I’m a romantic. Can I kiss you first?”

“Yeah.” Keith breathes, leaning into it. Lance meets him halfway, brushes their noses together, slides his hand down to Keith’s jaw and holds it firmly. He turns Keith’s face to either side, admires the view, admires the way Keith’s eyelashes rest so prettily on his high cheekbones when his eyes naturally fall closed in expectation. He doesn’t kiss him yet, but he does brush their lips together as he speaks, teasing as always. It’s giving him a rush, how he’s so clearly the one calling the shots, how he’s the one who’ll be making demands even once he finally has a Keith’s cock in his ass.

“And _then_ can I suck your dick?” Lance asks, just a hint of irritation and impatience showing in his tone.

“Can’t imagine any man’s strong enough to say no when you ask so sweetly.” Keith answers without missing a beat, and Lance lets it slide despite the sarcasm because anything else would just be a distraction from the goal at hand. And he really, really wants to choke around Keith’s cock in the very near future. The nearer, the better.

Their kiss is desperate right from the start. Lance tries to hold himself back, but it’s a loss cause, and from the first press of their lips together, he finds himself introducing playful nips of his teeth and swipes of his tongue. He’s pleasantly surprised when Keith meets him in stride, kisses him back just as hard, and then harder as he presses in close and pushes Lance back down against the bed.

And Lance goes without protest, spreading his legs again and letting Keith settle between them. 

It becomes immediately apparent that Lance has seriously underestimated Keith’s amount of experience, based on how he kisses alone. He kisses Lance breathless, kisses Lance so hard and thorough that he struggles to think around it. His tongue is a wicked thing, as it explores Lance’s mouth, dominates it without care or effort alike. Keith kisses him in a way that demands he keep up or be left behind, hand heavy on his hip, holding him still so he has nowhere to go to escape it… not that he’d want to.

Well, eventually he does end up deciding that he needs out, but only because he’s short of breath and Keith has taken to rolling his clothed hips down against Lance’s bare skin. It’s a subconscious sort-of thing, just seeking out friction and warmth without thinking about it. But that doesn’t change how it affects Lance, has him throwing his head back and breaking the kiss, gasping up into the open air.

“God, Keith, I won’t last. Don’t even touch me. I’ll come, and I don’t want to spill until you’re inside me.”

“If I’m not allowed to touch you, it’ll be difficult to fuck you.” Keith growls out in response, nipping at the underside of Lance’s jaw, trying to initiate another kiss. But Lance lands a hand on his chest and pushes him back, and he doesn’t hesitate to go. Keith settles on the edge of the bed and Lance follows in his own way, shifting onto the floor and eventually coming to kneel between Keith’s legs.

“Finally.” Lance breathes, as he tugs open Keith’s jeans to get his hands on the prize. Keith lifts his hips off the bed to let Lance undress him, but Lance doesn’t bother with it fully, doesn’t really have the patience for it right now. He gets his jeans tugged halfway down his thighs and then promptly gets distracted, eyes glued to where Keith’s cock is tenting his underwear in the most crude of outlines, leaving little to the imagination. Not that Lance had to imagine anyway, given he’s seen it before, and has spent countless hours fantasizing about it. 

Through the thin fabric, Lance swears he can see the tiny balls of his piercing barbell, right there at the head of his cock. He leans forward and Keith eyes him curiously, confused what he’s up to when he’s still mostly dressed from the waist down. Lance doesn’t hesitate though, wraps his lips around the head of Keith’s cock through the fabric and sucks hard. It’s immediately apparent that he’d been right, that was definitely the outline of his piercing jewelry. Lance familiarizes himself with it as best he can now, running his tongue over it through the fabric, sucking hard and tasting the salty bitterness of pre-cum like an afterthought in his throat.

“Kinda desperate for it, aren’t you? Can’t even wait to get my cock out?” Keith scoffs, dropping a hand to Lance’s head and running his fingers through his hair. His touch is gentle, reverent and careful in the way he slicks his hair back from his eyes, a total contrast to the harshness of his words. Lance sucks at him with renewed vigor, until Keith’s hips are shifting up into it, searching. “Never seen anyone so excited to suck cock. You rush to get on your knees for every man you’re with or am I just special?”

Lance wants to tell him that he’s special, that he doesn’t do this for just anyone, but his mouth is currently occupied and he has no intentions of changing that. Unfortunately, it’s about that time that Keith grabs a fistful of his hair and pulls him back, despite the whine of protest. Lance blinks up at him, eyes wide and teary already, oversensitive and weak to being deprived what he wants.

“Don’t tease.” Lance pleads, but Keith doesn’t seem to care. He settles his thumb on Lance’s lower lip, guides his mouth open again. Lance’s tongue lolls out obediently and Keith presses his thumb down against it, pins it to the bottom of his mouth.

“And what if I want to, hm? Haven’t you teased me enough that you deserve a taste of your own medicine? You never showed me any mercy.” Keith reminds him of this cruelly, holding him in place with the thumb in his mouth and hand gripping his jaw, while his other hand draws his underwear further down his legs. And then there it is, standing tall and proud, the biggest and prettiest cock Lance has ever had the honor of being face to face with.

He whimpers, instinctively trying to lean forward, but Keith’s grip is just harsh enough to keep him from getting anywhere with it. He’s forced to simply watch as Keith takes his own cock in hand and pumps himself, thumb rubbing at the head and rolling against the dainty silver jewelry there. 

Lance’s mouth waters, saliva building up until its spilling over the corners of his mouth and running down his chin. Still, Keith’s thumb stays pinning his tongue, undeterred.

“Please.” Lance manages around the intrusion, blinking his eyes up at Keith in question. Keith grins down at him, something inexplicably caring in his eyes. His hand on his cock slows, holds it steady and leads it toward Lance’s open mouth. And Lance arches forward, overeager, jaw completely slack. Only, when he gets close enough to take Keith into his mouth again, he doesn’t get to. Instead, Keith simply taps the head of his dick against his lips, against his outstretched tongue, teasing him with the fleeting press of what he really wants. Lance whines, high and reedy, in the back of his throat. 

Keith removes his thumb, wiping it off on the bedsheets. Immediately, Lance’s tongue starts thrashing, pleading words spilling past his lips so quickly he loses track of them. “Please, please, please. I need it, Keith, don’t tease me. Wanna taste you. Please? Please... _daddy_.”

Of course, Lance had _assumed_. Redwolf19 had always been blatantly open about this kink, and even in person Keith had always alluded to a vague interest in it, although admittedly more discreet. But the point is, Lance was fairly confident in himself that he’d nailed Keith’s biggest kink right on the head before their clothes even came off. Especially when he said it over the phone and Keith’s response was to hang-up on him, overwhelmed.

But, still… it’s something else to _watch_ the reaction Keith has to the word.

The way his entire body goes rigid, the way his cock jumps and pulses pre-cum from the tip, the way his hand lands in Lance’s hair and yanks him forward again. All of it sends a thrill through Lance, has him already dying for an excuse to use it again. Not that he’ll be rushing to speak now, as he finally wraps his lips around Keith’s cock, immediately sinks as far down it as he can manage and takes him to the back of his throat, like he’ll be deprived of it again at any second.

And sure enough, Keith does pull him back a moment later. But this time he’s grinning something fiendish, and he laughs at the sour look Lance shoots his way. So it’s less of a power trip now, more just Keith messing with him for the hell of it. Lance glares at him, though he can’t deny that their easy friendly dynamic spans to the bedroom as well.

“You gonna thank me for it too?” Keith asks, smoothing his thumb over Lance’s bottom lip. It comes away slick and shining, Lance’s gaze falling and focusing on it. He wants Keith in his mouth again and playing along is probably the quickest way to make that happen, so he nods.

“Thank-you, daddy.” He says, perhaps a bit more sweet and performative than he strictly needs to be about it. Keith doesn’t seem to mind though, it still triggers that awed and quiet look on his face, like he’s a puppet and Lance is pulling his strings with practiced ease. Lance can’t wait to exploit this for months to come, it’ll certainly never get old.

“Good boy.” Keith tells him eventually, once he’s composed himself some. But by that point Lance has already been sucking on his cock for a while, bobbing his head along the length of it, lips wrapped so tightly around his shaft he swears he can feel every single vein. He does perk up slightly at the words though, blue eyes gazing up at Keith even with his head tilted forward, mouth stuffed full. The eye contact makes it far more intimate, brings a pleasant burning flush to Lance’s skin. “You like that? You like being a good boy for me? You like being praised for a job well done?”

“Yeah.” Lance breaths, pulling off his cock with a wet pop.

“I find it hard to believe, considering all you ever fucking do is act up.” Keith mutters, hand smoothing over the side of Lance’s face, but despite the relative insult, his tone is so impossibly fond. Lance feels giddy with it, his eyes fluttering closed to relish in the attention. Lance leans into his palm, turning into it to press a kiss to his wrist, sighing contentedly. “So sweet when you wanna be, huh? Makes me wonder why you insist on acting like a brat all the time.”

“It’s only because it’s you. I love riling you up, it’s so easy to get under your skin.” Lance blinks up at him, adoration no doubt plain across his face. Keith hums thoughtfully, before grabbing Lance’s arms and hauling him up. Lance helps as best he can, scrambling to settle in Keith’s lap. The denim feels rough against his bare skin, but he rocks his hips down against it anyway, unable to stop himself.

“Been wanting to do this for a while.” Keith admits, hands sliding up Lance’s thighs, spreading them wider. He wraps his fingers around Lance’s cock and the whine that follows is urgent, as Lance swats him away, eyes pleading and wide because he knows he can’t last with Keith touching him. Thankfully, Keith seems to understand, shushes him with a kiss. “Even before I knew about everything. Just wanted you, Lance. Exactly as you are. The fact that you’re Leandro… just an incredibly uncanny coincidence. It doesn’t change anything, I hope you know that.”

“Why didn’t you _say something_? I haven’t exactly been shy about how I feel.”

“I was scared.” Keith trails his kisses lower, across Lance’s neck, and relishes the way his entire body shivers in response. Lance is delightfully sensitive there, as Keith lands playful nips to his skin, watching it darken beneath his teeth when he pulls away. “Scared of messing this up a second time. I just wanted it to work out so badly, you know?”

“I know.” Lance says, and he means it. He understands, a part of him is still holding his breath, worried they’ll get it wrong this time too. But he’s never wanted anything, anyone, as badly as he wants Keith right this moment. He figures they’ll figure it out, perhaps out of sheer stubbornness alone.

Keith smiles at him, wide and genuine.

Before Lance even has a chance to mirror the expression, it shifts into something darker, determined.

“Want me to fuck you now?”

“ _Yes_ .” Lance says it with such urgency that his voice breaks. He gets antsy, shifting impatiently in Keith’s lap, running his hands over his bare chest and admiring the tattoos interlacing across it. He whines when Keith doesn’t immediately give him what he wants, instead leaning back with his hands against the bed behind himself. “Keith, _come on_ , please. Don’t make me wait for it. I need you.”

“Get on the bed for me. Hands and knees.”

Lance really, really does not need to be asked twice. For once, he listens to orders with no hesitation.

Granted, he’d been of the understanding that Keith would follow his lead and give him what he wanted, otherwise he might have complained a little more about the demand. When Keith rises from the bed entirely rather than shifting to follow him, Lance grumbles under his breath, but when he glances over his shoulder he sees Keith is just undressing. So he settles, burying his face into his arms, making sure his ass is left sticking up in the air in a rather crude offering.

An offer that Keith doesn’t take him up on, the bastard.

Nearly a minute passes and Lance can hear him shuffling around his room then, drawers being pulled open and searched in. Lance whines, slumping down against the sheets on his stomach, rutting against them pathetically again.

“Keith, I’m ready, we don’t even need lube. And even if we did, you’re looking in the entirely wrong fucking place. I keep it in a box, under my bed, not the bedside table. Come on. _Hurry up_.”

“Whiny.” Keith accuses, and though Lance resents that comment, he’s not exactly in a position to try and deny it. So he just huffs, buries his face into his arms, lifts his hips again and shakes his ass from side to side in hopes of enticing Keith to hurry the hell up. He’s already prepped, there’s no need to fumble with fingers or lube, he just wants a cock in him (Keith’s, preferably, though he has a rather vast collection thanks to the former, so worst case scenario he’s capable of improvising). 

He’s just about ready to suggest as much when he finally feels the bed dip with Keith’s weight behind him, a hand running up his flank and giving him a playful tap on the ass. Lance does feel the hint of shame creep through him when his response is to moan, spreading his legs wider and arching up into it like the glutton for punishment he is. Keith doesn’t comment. Instead, something soft and plainly fabric hits the pillow beside Lance’s head. “Put these on.”

“You want me to put clothes _on_ to fuck me?” Lance questions with a grumble, lifting his head from the pillows to stare at the offending garment. Except, his expression immediately softens with realization, and he picks up the baby blue lace as gently as he can. It’d been expensive, after all. Leave it to Keith to just inherently know, to pick out the most expensive set in Lance’s entire drawer. “ _Ooh_ , right, I should’ve seen this coming. I totally forgot that you were into lace.”

“Not particularly,” Keith argues softly. “I just like how nice it looks on you. That color especially.”

“Then it’ll be a shame when you inevitably stretch and rip them as you fuck me.” Lance says, perhaps a little snidely, considering he now has to stand on shaky legs and pull underwear up his legs. It’s hardly the most comfortable thing, having your cock hard and straining against the thin mesh of lace, especially when the underwear are women’s to begin with and comically undersized. 

And if it weren’t for the fact that Lance has a giant and obvious kink for it too, he’d probably share some more choice words of complaint.

“I’ll buy you more.” Keith promises him, looking up at him from the bed. 

“I’ll hold you to that.” Lance tells him. He takes his sweet time drawing the garment up his legs, frequently glancing up to make sure Keith’s eyes are still glued to him, watching him with hunger and desire so heavy that even Lance feels a bit intimidated by it. God, Keith looks downright unhinged.

And once he finally fits the waistband into place at his hips, he straightens up and strikes a generic pose for his audience. Keith growls, something low and threatening, not quite words but a warning all the same. Lance twirls around instead of listening and climbing into the bed with him like he should, bending over slightly and reaching behind himself to give his own ass a spank, showing it off. “What do you think? Am I fulfilling all your fantasies? Is it better in person?”

“God, Lance.” Keith sounds wrecked, like Lance has already managed to break him. “Just get over here.”

Lance collapses back onto the bed, bouncing against it as he settles on his stomach. Keith’s hands are on him in an instant, smoothing down his back, tracing the line of his spine, eventually stopping at the curve of his ass. He bites his lip to hold back his noise of approval when Keith’s hands grab his ass, kneading at either cheek, spreading them wide and no doubt admiring the thin fabric between them.

He doesn’t dawdle long though, before he’s grabbing at Lance’s hips with purpose, manhandling him back up onto his hands and knees. And Lance goes, just as eager for what comes next.

“Mm, gonna fuck me from behind and admire the tattoo while you’re back there? Kinda vain, Keith.”

“I’ll be too busy admiring you to even notice it.” Keith answers smoothly and Lance almost rolls his eyes on instinct alone, before remembering that Keith can’t actually see his reaction anyway. And so he doesn’t bother to cover up the little answering smile, touched by Keith’s compliments despite himself, always a sucker for praise. Whatever, Lance likes being told he’s pretty, people have worse vices.

Keith leans over him from behind and Lance near snarls with frustration when he feels his cock slot between his cheeks, just rocking back and forth in the shallow dip between them, fabric still separating their bare skin. Keith seems to be getting something out of it though, perhaps a religious experience in rubbing himself off against Lance’s underwear, considering he’s apparently a bigger pervert than Lance ever could have guessed. Lance grumbles, Keith’s grip on his hips growing uncomfortably tense, tight enough to bruise. 

“You wanna borrow a pair of my underwear and wrap those around your cock to get off, or do you actually plan on getting inside me somewhere in the near future? I promise, my ass will feel better, and won’t chafe near as much as that fabric.” Lance snaps a little bit, can’t help it. Luckily, Keith doesn’t seem put-off in the slightest, just laughs heartily and collapses across his back. He nuzzles his face between Lance’s shoulder blades, kissing him there.

“Alright, alright, you’ve convinced me. You make a compelling argument.” Keith whispers, still quietly chuckling to himself. Lance catches himself giggling too, quiet and amused, at the sheer ludicrousness of the entire exchange. “Condoms? You keep those in the box beneath the bed too?”

“Yes, _but_ …” Lance trails off as if he’s shy, as if he has any hang-ups at all asking for what he wants in the bedroom. Keith must know it’s an act, and he must know what he’s about to ask for too, given the huff of laughter muffled into his back. Even before Lance speaks, Keith is pulling back, straightening up behind him and toying with his panties again. He pulls them to the side, fits a thumb against Lance’s entrance where it’s no doubt twitching with impatience, slick and loose enough that Keith barely has to apply pressure at all to have his thumb slipping inside. “Have you gotten tested recently? I did. Results came back clean. Haven’t been with anyone since, I’ve been a little too preoccupied thinking about you.”

“I’m clean.” Keith tells him. And, that should be the point in which he hauls Lance’s underwear off, or even just keeps them pushed to the side and out of the way, and then shoves his cock inside. Instead, he keeps toying with Lance’s rim, fingering him without any of the relief of fullness. He never pushes more than one finger inside at a time, and even then he mostly just rubs them across the tight furl of his asshole, testing how much pressure it takes to give.

“For fuck’s sake Keith, if you don’t stick your cock in me soon, I’m gonna push you down on this bed and take it for myself.” Lance squirms away from him for emphasis, underwear snapping back into place without Keith’s hold pulling them away from his skin. Keith follows after him but Lance looks over his shoulder to shoot him a warning glare, and it must be just serious enough to inspire results. Keith laughs, reaches down and strokes his cock, as if making a promise.

“So you’d have me just like this, would you?” Keith asks him, pulling his panties to the side again. And though it’s not much better, at least this time it’s the head of Keith’s cock that teases his hole, tapped lightly against it without any pressure behind it at all. Lance whimpers, pushing back into it, arching his back, trying to tempt Keith to actually _put it in him_. “You’re so easy, Lance, so very easy.”

“Want you to come inside.” Lance manages weakly, because it’s the truth and he’ll throw himself under the bus if it means enticing Keith to fuck him sooner.

“Yeah?” Keith keeps teasing him with the head of his cock, even going so far as to push it inside, watch as Lance’s body tries to swallow him deeper, and then pull back out with a sick sadistic chuckle. Lance wants to cry, he also wants to scream. “Want me to fuck you raw and fill you up? Want me to make a mess of you? Wanna feel it drip down your thighs when I pull out?”

“N-No, I’ll use a plug.” 

“Good boy.” Keith tells him, earnest, and Lance absolutely preens under the praise. He doesn’t have much time to enjoy the high of it though, before Keith is finally, finally pushing inside of him. Despite the fact Lance is well beyond the point of ready, Keith is still gentle with him, eases inside inch by agonizing inch. He keeps his hands on Lance’s hips, steadying him.Lance feels every bit of the stretch, it has him breathless and gasping by the time Keith has bottomed out inside of him. He feels high with it, how full he feels after going so long waiting for it. “So good. Look at you, angel, taking me so well. How do you feel? You want more?”

“Good. So good.” Lance chokes out, fingers sliding uselessly across the sheets in search of purchase. He pushes his face into the pillows, shifting his hips along Keith’s length, leaning forward until just the tip remains inside and then bucking back to take him to the hilt again. That seems to be an answer in itself, the cue Keith was waiting for, because he starts to meet Lance in the middle.

When Lance arches back against him next, Keith thrusts forward in turn, driving his cock home deep inside of him with brutal force right from the start. Just how Lance wanted it. Needed it.

Lance moans like a whore, can’t even find it within himself to care. 

It doesn’t get any better when Keith starts up a steady pace, fucking him like he’s been asking for this entire time, like he’s been waiting on for weeks. It’s everything he’d hoped it’d be and more, Keith’s cock feels massive inside of him, and though he’s fairly certain it’s just his imagination… he swears the piercing makes the difference, that he can feel it as he’s getting fucked. Maybe it’s just the simple knowledge that it’s there, inside of him, but he can’t stop thinking about it.

It doesn’t help that Lance was so close to begin with, felt like he could burst from the simplest stroke to his cock. Even now, without any friction at all on his cock, he feels his orgasm continuing to build, to crest to dangerous heights until he’s sure it’ll crash over him completely untouched. He can’t say that’s ever happened for him before, but this is the closest he’s ever come. He just needs a little bit more, a little bit more, feels like he’s hovering right on the edge of it. 

He’s so focused on chasing that feeling, tightening and clenching around Keith, trying to draw him deeper and keep him at just the right angle… he doesn’t even notice how loud he’s being until a hand clamps down over his mouth. He whimpers pathetically, only turned on further.

“You’re so _loud_ , darling, the neighbors are gonna complain.” Keith sounds a little impressed if anything, but Lance does his best to listen and quiet himself down. He bites down on his lips, only letting quiet whimpers and mewls slip past when he lets his guard down.

Keith is like a furnace against his back, dripping sweat, damp hair falling over Lance’s shoulders, burning in temperature… and Lance has never felt so eager to be swallowed by a flame. He leans up into him, presses their bodies together, listens to the steady slap of skin against skin as Keith fucks him hard enough to rock the bed. 

He’s made up his mind now, there’s now ay this isn’t working out between the two of them, because he’s never been fucked so good in his life and he _needs_ it to become a regular occurrence. 

It’s like Keith is taking out all his frustration, all his impatience, all his longing over the weeks (years?) of knowing Lance. This is the byproduct of countless teasing comments and flirty gestures, of Lance toying with him, of Lance stringing him along like a dog on a leash. Now, he fucks him like an animal.

“Fuck, Keith, don’t stop! I’m so close. Just please, don’t _stop_.” Lance pleads nonsensically, words stumbling past his lips with his permission, thoughtless and earnest. His voice is raw and belatedly, he realizes there are tears streaking his face, and it only works to overwhelm him more.

“Shh, I’ve got you.” Keith promises, his voice equally as wrecked, but also firm in a way that Lance clings to and grounds himself with. “So fucking tight. You’re squeezing me like a vice, baby, I won’t last if you keep it up.” 

“I can’t, fuck, I can’t-”

“It’s okay. I know. You can let go.” Keith reassures him, kissing clumsily across the nape of his neck, more teeth and tongue than lips. Lance rocks back against him, feels the way Keith’s cock is pulsing inside of him, no doubt getting close himself. Still, the idea of Ketih pulling out the second Lance finishes to give him a breather is a terrible one, when Lance wants to badly to stay filled just like this.

“You won’t stop?” Lance asks quietly, blindly, into the air. Keith seems to understand.

“I won’t. I won’t stop.” Keith promises, nails digging into Lance’s hips so harshly that there must be crescent-shaped indents left in their wake. Keith’s pace doesn’t relent, pistoning into him in short, precise thrusts that hit Lance exactly where he needs it right now. It’s almost like Keith has been paying attention, managing to decipher Lance’s useless writhing and wailing for more. And that thought, the thought of what a caring and attentive lover Keith is, is what finally manages to push Lance over the edge. Untouched, save for the barely-there slide of his cock against the sheets.

Now, he paints the same sheets white with streaks of cum. The pleasure hits him like a train and despite seeing it coming, he feels blindsided. It’s so intense after edging himself for so long with just his hands, it has him seeing stars. He’s loud now, so loud that he’s sure the entire block must hear him, but Keith doesn’t seem to have it in him to try and quiet him. He seems to enjoy it too much, if his matching groan is anything to go by. Lance comes so hard he thinks he might cry, cock pulsing and jumping all on its own, getting none of the firm friction its so used to.

And true to his word, Keith keeps fucking him through it, doesn’t even give him the reprieve of slowing his pace. He drives him straight past oversensitivity into something else entirely, where his entire body feels alight with pleasure, his head swimming with it rather than a single coherent thought. All he’s capable of doing is moaning brokenly, slurring Keith’s name as he keeps fucking his ass with the same jackrabbit pace. 

“ _Fuck_.” Keith growls out, as Lance’s body spasms around him, trying to draw him deeper and force him out at the same time, uncertain what he wants more. He figures Keith must be close by now, there’s no way he’s not after keeping up that pace for so long, and the thought inspires Lance to pry himself off the mattress and back onto his knees. Slowly, clumsily, he pushes back to meet Keith’s thrusts.

“ _Keith_ .” Lance calls his name over his shoulder, shaky. “Mm, just like that. Fuck. Just like that, _daddy_.”

Lance drops the word with an air of nonchalance, even knowing the power it has over Keith.

“You take cock like you were made for it.” Keith growls out through his teeth, voice low with lust so strong Lance can practically taste it in the air. He fucks Lance harder, like he’s begging without words, begging to hear him say it again. “Thought about this for _years_ , Lance. You’re so much better than I could have imagined. You’re _perfect_.”

“Come on, I wanna _feel you, daddy._ ” Lance pleads, rolling his hips back into it despite the way it makes him burn with oversensitivity each time Keith’s cock rubs up against his prostate on an inward thrust in. Keith bites out some manner of warning, barely coherent, and Lance feels his entire body draw up tense with anticipation. He knows he must feel impossibly tight right now around Keith’s cock, desperate to keep him exactly where he is, to feel him finish inside. 

It doesn’t come as a surprise that he doesn’t last much longer at all, only a couple short and uncalculated thrusts into his heat, and Keith is _coming_. 

The first pulse shoots inside of Lance, and it’s everything he’d hoped it’d be, warm and wet and soothing against his burning insides. And then, Keith does the most horrible thing imaginable… and pulls out.

“Keith!” Lance gasps in utter betrayal, whipping his head around to stare over his shoulder. He watches Keith’s fist move in a blur over his cock, coaxing himself through his orgasm. Cum lands in webs across Lance’s lower back, decorating his tattoo in thick lines of white. Lance whines in protest, but he doesn’t dare to move as Keith’s free hand settles heavy on his hips, gripping him tight to keep him in place.

Keith pants through it, watching with dark eyes as he marks Lance’s body with his seed. One particular pulse lands low and then slowly drips down the line of his ass, still warm as it slides over his puffy and used hole. Lance whines pathetically, eyeing Keith the entire time in frustration.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’ll come inside next time.” Keith attempts to placate him when he finally starts coming down from his high, but Lance is properly pissed in his overstimulated state. 

“Next time better be fucking soon.” He blinks back angry tears, wiggles away from Keith’s touch when he attempts to smear his spend across Lance’s back, rubbing it across the tattoo there. Keith shushes him a second time, backing off completely, and though Lance had been trying to squirm away from him… he’s suddenly very aware that Keith leaving is the last thing he wants.

He whines even _louder_ at Keith’s absence and Keith just clicks his tongue quietly. Lance is just about ready to turn around and follow after him, when Keith’s hands settle on his ass and spread him wide. He feels it when Keith’s tongue laps across his back, cleaning the mess he’s made and taking it into his mouth. He also undoubtedly feels it when Keith shifts down, spits between his cheeks, messily pushes his cum inside of Lance’s ass with a flick of his tongue. Lance trembles as Keith pulls away, probably entirely too proud of himself. “So pretty.”

Lance is so sensitive and keyed-up, his cock already threatening to harden again now with no relief in sight. When Keith buries his face in his ass again to eat him out properly, Lance squeals and scrambles up the bed to get away from him, unsure of what he wants anymore. But Keith simply grabs his ankle and drags him back in with a growl, goes right back to what he was doing. 

And Lance quickly realizes that that’s exactly what he wanted, after all. Maybe Keith knows better, given he seems to be the only one still level-headed at this point, thinking straight at all. 

He eats Lance out until he’s shaking, knees sliding out on either side of him, unable to support his weight. And then he keeps at it, licking inside of him with broad sweeping strokes of his tongue, flicking and curling it against his inner walls where they’re stretched and pliant after the battering of Keith’s cock against them. Lance trembles, toes curling, cock now standing at attention and leaking into the sullied bedsheets all over again. Remind him to tell Keith he totally has to wash these later, considering it’s his fault they ended up in this state. Next time, they’re doing this in Keith’s bed.

When Keith finally pulls back Lance feels like he’s right back on the precipice. 

“How’s that, princess? Good enough for you?” _This_ pet name doesn’t sound nearly as nice on Keith’s lips, sounds much more like an insult. Lance huffs at him, reaching back to grab a handful of his hair and give it a sharp tug. Keith grumbles, but he goes willingly now. “What? More complaints?”

“It’s not the _same_ . You were supposed to come inside, that was the whole point of not using a condom. I wanted to keep it _in me_ . I feel so _empty_ , Keith.”

“You’ll live.” Keith tells him, with an indifferent pat on the ass. He doesn’t even take the time to clean his cum off Lance’s back the rest of the way, or even wipe the saliva from his chin, just flops over next to him on the mattress as if he intends to go to sleep. Lance gapes at him, at the way his eyes fall closed, at the pleased and lazy smile on his face.

“Don’t you dare fall asleep on me.” Lance growls, and at that, Keith cracks one eye open to stare in his direction. Then, as if to drive a point home, he closes it again and even goes so far as to toss an arm across his face and fake some snores. Lance collapses on top of him ungracefully, knocking the air from his lungs all at once, with a snooty little _humph_. “You suck.”

“On the contrary, you were the one doing an awful lot of sucking just now.” Keith mumbles, eyes still closed behind his arm, breathing slowly evening out. His free hand does come up to settle on Lance’s side though, knuckles tracing his ribcage, so gentle he hardly feels it. Lance continues to pout, dropping his chin to Keith’s chest, batting his eyelashes up at him and waiting on him to open his eyes to see it.

“You’re _not_ funny.”

“I’m hilarious.” Keith argues, grinning so hard now that Lance feels compelled to kiss it off of him, and involve far too much teeth in the process just to be a nuisance. But, before he gets the chance, a quiet ding goes off across the room. Keith tenses beneath Lance, Lance lifts his head curiously to stare toward Keith’s jeans, abandoned on the floor.

“Someone’s texting you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Work?”

“Most likely. I didn’t tell them I was leaving.”

“ _Keith_!”

“I had more important things on my mind! Sue me!” Keith defends playfully, and Lance laughs in turn, shaking his head fondly. He climbs off of Keith’s sweaty body, clambers over to the other end of the bed and reaches for his jeans without ever bothering to stand up. He pulls his phone out of his front pocket, climbs back up the bed to Keith’s side and settles in again to read his text. This time, he’s careful to land only half on top of Keith’s chest, so he can breathe at least a little bit.

**Acxa: think I’m gonna die of old age before my coffee gets here, Keith.**

“Acxa wants her coffee.” Lance informs Keith matter-of-factly, tilting his head up and pressing a kiss to his jaw. Keith huffs, the arm strewn across his eyes shifting, but not pulling away entirely. Curious how much effort it would take to bring Keith back to the world of the living, Lance rolls over, settling half on top of him and pressing a kiss to his lips now. Keith kisses him back with about half as much enthusiasm, but that’s probably to be expected given his state.

“Tell her to fuck off. I’m taking a vacation for the foreseeable future.” Keith answers, and though he’s late about it, Lance doesn’t point it out. He tosses the phone aside and settles in against Keith’s chest properly, makes himself comfortable there like he intends to stay a while. He reaches down and idly traces a finger over the lineart of Keith’s tattoos spanning down his arm.

“ _Ooh_ , a _vacation_? Where are we going?” Lance asks, letting his hand trail lower and lower, eventually switching paces and letting it slide to Keith’s stomach instead. Keith grunts in the back of his throat, a clear warning… one that Lance doesn’t heed. His hand keeps going, dips below the covers and fits around Keith’s soft cock, pawing at it teasingly. “I’ve always wanted to see Spain.” 

“We can go anywhere you fucking want, as long as there’s a bed when we get there.”

“Because you’re tired or because you want to fuck more?” Lance asks, and the tired groan he gets in answer is almost enough to make him relent and take it easy on Keith. Almost. It would have been, if it weren’t for the fact that Lance is so curious about how Keith’s piercing shifts beneath his foreskin with each pass of his hand, now that he’s not fully hard. He wants to familiarize himself with the entire process, wants to watch every second of Keith’s cock filling out to its full size. “Did I really wear you out already? I was hoping for a round two.”

“Give me a minute.” Coming from anyone else Lance would consider it a beg, but as it is he gives Keith the grace of dismissing it as a strong request. Lance doesn’t listen, shifting down the length of Keith’s body, scattering kisses across exposed sweat-slicked skin wherever he pleases. He even stops to lap his tongue across each of Keith’s nipples, watching them harden and pebble again beneath his heavy gaze.

“But I want it _now_ , daddy.” Lance whispers when he reaches his destination, nosing through the dark hair between the dip of Keith’s hips. It’s short, neatly trimmed, and Lance only barely resists the urge to kiss him there as well. He saves his energy, drifting lower, lips tracing the length of Keith’s cock almost lazily until they reach the head. Keith whines, the hand that’s not currently covering his eyes darting from the sheets to Lance’s hair, holding him back like an overeager puppy.

“ _Behave_.”

“Or what? What are you gonna do about it? You hardly look capable of protesting, maybe you should just lay there and _take it_ like a _good boy_. Let me warm your cock for you, hm?”

“Keep it up and see where it gets you. I might have to punish you.”

“Keith, you really underestimate me. Is that supposed to sound anything other than intriguing? If anything, you’re making me wanna act up even more. What are you gonna do, spank me? Jokes on you, I’m into that too. There’s nothing you can do to me that I won’t enjoy.”

“Fuck. I’m in way over my head with you, aren’t I?” Keith says it around a grin, chuckling lowly, cheeks flushing pleasantly. And then he lifts his arm, finally, and those dark amethyst eyes are staring at Lance like he’s hung the moon, utterly invested and adoring. Lance can’t remember the last time anyone looked at him, if anyone ever has. He thinks he could get used to it, though.

He forgets all about his current fixation for his newest whim. He climbs back up Keith’s body clumsily, knees him in the shin in the process, but Keith stops complaining quick when Lance settles in his arms and kisses him hard. This time, Keith meets him with matching enthusiasm, until they’re back to rolling in the sheets minutes later.

And if by the end of round two Keith’s phone is blowing up with confused messages from Acxa, well, they’ll deal with it later.

\--

**Acxa: Keith… my fucking coffee… i swear to god i’ll kill you if you forgot it**

**Acxa: At least tell me you’re on your way back? Is traffic really that bad?**

**Acxa: Your 1pm is here, in the waiting room, and we don’t know what to tell them? Are you even planning on coming back? Seriously, Keith, did you die?**

**Acxa: me and ezor are starting to discuss the possibilities. My bet’s on you getting in a high speed car crash. Ezor thinks you might have gotten kidnapped.**

**Acxa: Thace placed his bet. He thinks you found a stray dog on the side of the road and you’re preoccupied with that for the foreseeable future. Somehow… I feel like he’s right.**

**Acxa: oh ym god. Oh ym fuckign god. Zethrid just stopped by to see Ezor and gave her input.**

**Acxa: are you fucking LAnce??????????????? Did you two FINALLY fuck????????????**

**Acxa: Zethrid was so right, wasn’t hse????? Wasn’t she???????**

**Acxa: say hi to Lance for me lol**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY!!! You're up to date now, this is all I have written for this au. There will, more than likely, be more. When? I don't know. I have a ton of wips on the go right now so it's hard to say. There's a potential for another VERY long third part that includes more of Shiro/Adam (i know, i know, they were lacking in this installment compared to the last), some new relationship shenanigans, a WHOLE lot of fucking lets be real, and also some potential for Lance to introduce and include Keith in his online world more??? Perhaps???
> 
> AND there's absolutely without a fraction of a doubt gonna be a one-off short piece about titty-fucking bc that was part of the original idea for this before I realized nipple piercings take a small eternity to heal. So, sadly, very sadly, that particular smut scene has been pushed back. I may be a porn writer with dubious content at times, but I just couldn't bring myself to write a titty fucking scene with the thought of infected piercings on my mind. No, nope, couldn't do it, Lance isn't having Any fun with them until they're fully healed.
> 
> Anyway, comment below and let me know if you're interested in reading more of this au!! Or if you have any ideas for stuff you'd like to see!! I was blown away by the response to the first part so hopefully this lived up to expectations for all of you!!
> 
> social medias  
> @melancholymango is my main on twitter/tumblr  
> @redgaysonly is my fandom/nsfw twitter (adults only!)


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